#but at least everyone seems nice and the job doesn't seem all that hard

[vidavalor]

Lesley and Maud

@drconstellation wrote a really interesting meta about our favorite International Express Package Dude that got my brain humming about him and his wife. What can they tell us about Crowley & Aziraphale and the story as a whole?

As the good doctor's above meta points out, Lesley is not the type to question, well... basically anything. While he is a likable character and we root for him to survive and keep living what seems like his nice and peaceful life with his sweet wife, he is also one of the most exasperating characters in Good Omens because what starts out seeming like just his devotion to his job turns out to be a lack of questioning on such a level as to directly be the cause of his death and the enabling of Armageddon.

We initially might admire Lesley's devotion to extracting a sense of self from his job. While we think he's maybe working a bit too hard and while we know what packages he's going to be delivering and so want him to just go back to bed and be safe with his wife, it's hard to hate a man who sees his duty as service to others. The world really does need people who will, for the most part, just deliver packages without asking what's in them or questioning the process because they are upholding the privacy, dignity and freedom of others in doing so. They are helping others to live their lives so these people deserve respect for what they do. On the one hand, Lesley not asking details regarding the packages seems like a way of not seeing it as his business which, well... fair. It's not his business.

It's just that Lesley takes this way, way too far... past a point of reasonable behavior because, at some point, questions need to be asked, if only for preserving safety for yourself or others.

As his story continues, we increasingly are silently begging Lesley to question something, anything about these packages he's been assigned to deliver on this Saturday morning, instead of just doing it. We need him to stop because he's further triggering Armageddon with each delivery he makes, right? We also just care about him and it becomes evident that this man has zero self-preservation skills. He delivers a package to a group of people armed to the teeth. Most chilling, he doesn't seem to think twice about the fact that he doesn't have to deliver a message to Death if he doesn't actually want to.

What's so unnerving about Lesley, though, is that while we can appreciate the idea that he doesn't get involved with whatever is happening when he's delivering these packages, his lack of interest in them is symbolizing the fact that he is just a profoundly incurious person. His story seems to be asking the question of at what point that becomes a moral failing.

On the one hand, a definition of freedom could include someone's right to not care about how others live. The problem with this is that everything and everyone is interconnected. We have a responsibility to one another and to the planet we are all sharing. At what point does inaction become a form of negative action? Lesley is different from other incurious characters in the series. He's not the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters, for instance, whose lack of imagination, curiosity, critical thinking skills and empathy lead them to believe them superior to others and to take action to oppress others. Greta, Glozier and Harmony are villainous because of those things but Lesley is subtly just as interesting a story along a similar theme.

No one, at first pass, would call Lesley a villain and he's definitely sympathetic at times but, mostly, he's pitiable. We feel kind of sorry for him. We definitely feel sorry for his wife, who at least questioned Lesley's lack of questioning and tried to look after him a bit. As Lesley's story continues, though, he becomes increasingly tragic. He just continues to do what he's been ordered to do, a cog in the machine, and even continues that after he dies doing it and comes back to life. Lesley isn't even terribly curious about all of that. He's just like whoa, what a day! to Crowley and Aziraphale-- two powerful, supernatural beings who are so mind-fucked by the events of the last day that they're drinking on a park bench and beginning the first of what we know will be a thousand conversations about What It All Means.

Lesley seems to be something of a nod towards the sheep mindset of religious fundamentalists and cult followers, etc. He doesn't think for himself. The question with his story is at what point does that go from being he's a sad and tragic character we feel a bit sorry for to he's that but he's actually also an antagonistic character because his actions-- or inactions, really-- are doing harm?

As Lesley approached Pollution with their package, God's narration gave us backstory on Lesley and Maud's relationship to the polluted river which Pollution was admiring. God tells us that the river never used to be polluted like this and that, back when it wasn't, Lesley and Maud would come to this park and walk and picnic and spoon and fork along the river. God's narration specifically says Lesley and Maud stopped coming to the river when it was polluted and, since the river is still polluted, is pointing out the fact that these two that had an emotional attachment to the river as part of the history of their love for one another have done nothing to change the state of their environment and are letting it worsen.

Lesley then doesn't counter Pollution's assessment of the environmental devastation as "beautiful," even when it's evident that Lesley disagrees with that statement. This is one of Lesley's only personal opinions that we are allowed to glimpse but, in seeing it, we actually can think a bit worse of him. How much of his time and effort would it take to do join others in doing something about the river? Not just even any river, but the one alongside which he courted the wife he loves?

He doesn't question enough, though, to see that he can. He's not curious enough about anything. He only blindly follows what he's been told to think and believe and do.

In this way, while Lesley is a deliverer, he's actually a parallel to-- but the exact opposite of-- our professional deliverer (professional midwife), Crowley.

Crowley's signature trait is his asking of questions. He does not blindly follow the directions of others the way that Lesley does. In the Job minisode that declares Crowley a deliverer, we know that his outfit is inspired by that of one of the Bible's most famous deliverers, Moses, in Cecil B. Demille's The Ten Commandments, as in the scene when Moses turns his staff into a serpent. Crowley's parallel of Jesus is the other big "deliverer from sin" in the Bible. In the "professional midwife" scene, Crowley literally delivers Sitis from evil by stopping her from cursing God.

Crowley's role in the series is around delivering people anew from their pain. He's a cobbler-- he repairs and re-pairs people. He plays Cupid with Maggie and Nina to help both of them live more fulfilling lives. He pairs Mr. Brown up with Mutt, knowing that Mr. Brown needs some kindness and human magic in his life. At other times, he's literally delivering something or someone-- the antichrist baby in the picnic basket. Black market alcohol to The Windmill.

In addition to this, he's a deliverer in the rescuer sense. He comes to people's emotional rescue and, with Aziraphale, that and sometimes his literal rescue.

So, while Crowley is a more expansive definition of a deliverer, Lesley is paralleling him in a much more basic sort of way-- he delivers packages-- and contrasting Crowley as he parallels him, in that Lesley doesn't ask questions.

Let's bring in some word stuff and look at Lesley's name and that of his wife's for a moment...

Lesley's name is, structurally, the same as Crowley's and is also a gender-neutral name, which pairs well with Crowley. Additionally, the first part of his name-- les-- is both French for a plural sense of the & them... The Them... and also derogatory/occasionally reclaimed throughout history slang for a lesbian. So, yes, Crowley-esque already but the actual definition of Lesley is even more so.

Lesley is thought to come from the Gaelic leas celyn, which means holly garden. A garden for the Serpent of Eden who is a gardener, yes, but the holly is even more important. Holly is a red berry-- a Crowley-colored fruit-- that is synonymous with Christmas, the holiday around the birth of Crowley's other contrasting parallel, Jesus. Additionally, holly shares etymological roots with Hell... so, there's both Heaven and Hell in this.

Then, there's Lesley's wife, Maud. Maud is a name in its own right as well as being a nickname of the name from which it is derived, which is Mathilde. Mathilde means mighty in battle.

Let's talk about why that's perfect for a character who predominantly parallels Aziraphale, as there is perhaps not a word that describes Aziraphale better than the mighty might.

On the one hand, when we talk about might, we talk about strength. We use it in terms of describing raw power-- "the might of NATO's collective armed forces", say, or "she pulled open the door using all her might."

On the other hand, as the other tense of the word may, it's a polite word about possibility and permission. This word that means strong and force not to be reckoned with is also a word of consent.

You'd be hard-pressed to find a word more Aziraphale than that.

It would appear that Crowley agrees because several scenes suggest that they are using might as descriptive for Aziraphale in their wordplay. One would imagine Crowley would find it hard to resist not just because of the perfectly Aziraphaleness of the word but also for the sake of blasphemy because what do people call God?

The Almighty. 😉

Additionally, might has a homophone of mite, another insect for the bees/flies/ants/murder hornets figurative language fiesta. The dust mite does seem good for antiquarian bookseller Aziraphale. The word mite is also in the action of the righteous angel that also means to strike down with love and infatuation-- to smite.

Gabriel smiting the dust mites 🤭

But let's factor in the 'battle' part of this meaning as well. There are two ways to read "mighty in battle" and they are both correct when applied to Aziraphale.

One is that Aziraphale is "mighty in battle" in the sense that he has to do a lot of battling. A battle is not just a clash in a war where war is large-scale military conflict but an internal battle. It's battling your own inner demons. Aziraphale is "mighty in battle" in the sense that he has has to fight through a lot but he is also "mighty in battle" in the other way to take the phrase-- he is mighty (strong) in battle. He's full of inner strength that helps him to get through those battles. This is also perfectly Aziraphale because mental health struggles are not weakness and Aziraphale is a character who exemplifies that very well. He has times when he doesn't feel very strong but he is overall a strong person, as are so many who struggle. He's mighty in battle.

Additionally, there's that if you break down Maud a bit, you get mau, which is a form of cat. Her name is a kind of cat and she calls Lesley "tiger."

As @jotun-philosopher has been looking at, Crowley and Aziraphale have a thing about lions. Crowley's desk chair in S1 and Aziraphale's signet ring are lions. It's probably tied to the two of them watching Adam kill the lion from the wall in Eden. While Maud and Lesley are using tigers, Crowley and Aziraphale are using the parallel lions, and both are types of big cats.

From a language perspective, cats are fun animal parallels because they're gender-neutral. While cats have a history of feminine-associations-- see: common, cat-related euphemisms for a vagina, for starters-- jazz-era slang used cat for masculine-presenting beings just as much. A cat in that context was a man who was cool-- a real hep cat.

When Shadwell asks Crowley in 1967 if he is "a witch or warlock or someone who calls his cat funny names", Crowley responded by saying: "Not a witch. No pets." One of the end results there is that Crowley said he didn't have any pets (which is kind of a lie, as he has The Plants lol) but he never says that he doesn't have a cat, does he? He doesn't have a cat in the pet sense but he has one in the person sense and they absolutely call each other "funny names"-- in the punny, pet name sense, not in a witchy sense.

So, anyway, lots of paralleling big cats. Lions and tigers (and bears somewhere, I'm sure, oh my!).

Ok, so, Lesley and Maud are very Crowley and Aziraphale and what can the brief glimpse of their relationship maybe tell us about Crowley and Aziraphale's?

There's a lot here in the scene with Maud. Have a look at the colors in it to start. Their bedroom is white (Aziraphale) and shades of a silvery, light grey (Crowley). Aziraphale's sweater that he wears in the bookshop is basically the same color as Maud and Lesley's sheets.

It's the burst of brighter color here, though, that really stands out and that is Maud's night clothes.

That is an orangey-pink color-- it's a coral pink or a salmon pink. It's a pink of the sea. Over here, I went on about the use of shades of pink-- the color of love, romance and health-- in the series, as well as fish-and-the-sea as Crowley and Aziraphale's figurative language for sex. Maud and Lesley's bedroom is a mix of Crowley and Aziraphale colors, offset by a color symbolic of a healthy romantic life. In this way, they don't differ from Crowley and Aziraphale, but their circumstances in this same scene show where they do.

The scene that introduces these two to parallel Crowley and Aziraphale is centered around Lesley and Maud in their version of the one room in the bookshop we still haven't yet been in but which has been alluded to in other ways-- their bedroom. The scene is centered around Maud waking up in bed while Lesley is leaving to go make his deliveries. Just by knowing Crowley and Aziraphale, we can see where they would differ from Lesley and Maud in a parallel situation to this scene.

The first difference is that this is an unusual occurrence for Maud and Lesley. Maud is used to having her partner in bed with her on Saturday mornings. She is surprised that he is up and going to work. She will miss him and wishes he doesn't have to go but she also isn't too concerned about him because, in their world, she does not have to be.

During this scene, the audience is actually a bit more worried about Lesley than Maud (or Lesley) are because we already have enough context to be able to assume that we're meeting Lesley because he's the guy who is going to go deliver the stuff to summon The Four Horsepeople of the Apocalypse. We're all hey, nice guy, maybe you should stay in bed with your wife. Just call in sick, man. What's coming up for you will absolutely not be worth it! It makes sense, though, that Lesley and Maud don't feel that same level of threat because, while there is some risk to delivering packages, most days Lesley is just dropping off people's new stuff from the internet. This man delivers blenders and socks and books and stuff. Maud is sure he'll be fine and home by dinner.

Now, compare that to Crowley and Aziraphale...

Crowley and Aziraphale would love to live like Lesley and Maud. To get married and share a little place somewhere together and not park The Bentley streets away and to still be snuggling in bed when the sun comes up in the morning without worrying that they're going to get caught and be killed. In their world, it's not a rare thing for Crowley to be slipping out of bed before sunrise as that's the norm.

There is a lot to suggest that "the rules" of their relationship to which Aziraphale is referring in Lockdown are basically that it's too dangerous for Crowley to stay the night and that he leaves the bookshop before the sun comes up to keep them from being caught. In other posts, some of us have also talked about the idea that slipping out the side door of the bookshop is how Crowley became friendly with Mrs. Sandwich and looked at things like Crowley parking The Bentley away from the shop in different scenes, especially when he's staying into the night in 2008 in 1.01.

The "no nightingale" scene from Romeo & Juliet being Romeo sneaking out of Juliet's bed before dawn. The "no nightlife" dream:

"Dining at the Ritz" also has a secondary meaning related to this. While dining today means eating any type of snack or meal at any time of the day, it didn't originally mean that. It once only referred to eating breakfast. The Ritz is homophonic for "the writs." Writs are written works. "Dining at The Ritz" means dining at The Ritz but it also means something that Crowley and Aziraphale still have not yet done that we've seen-- having breakfast in the bookshop.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale would kill to live with Maud's sense of surety that her husband will return after he leaves. S2, in particular, gets into Aziraphale's trauma from once having Crowley disappeared to Hell in front of him. Living as a demon is a lot more dangerous for Crowley than delivering packages is for Lesley and Aziraphale worries every time Crowley leaves that he might not come back, to a point that Crowley is shown reassuring Aziraphale that he'll return, something it's doubtful he's saying in the scene below for the first time.

But something of note here, too, is that while this scene that introduces Lesley and Maud starts off with pretty clear Crowley = Lesley and Aziraphale = Maud paralleling, Crowley and Aziraphale mirror one another and basically all pairs of characters in the series are mixed parallels of both of them. This is true of even some parallels where one character seems to skew pretty heavily towards one character over the other, like Anathema and Newt, as well as ones that are shown to be pretty well-mixed parallels, like Maggie and Nina in S2 or Gabriel and Beez. So, where do Lesley and Maud start to flip parallels a bit?

It's in when Lesley delivers his last package-- the message to Death-- and then the Lesley = Aziraphale holds through the end of S1, setting up Aziraphale mirroring some Lesley in S2.

Lesley sees what he is to deliver to Death and, again, doesn't ask questions (FFS LESLEY lol) but when he feels he's trapped by the package he must deliver, what does he do? He writes a note for his wife and leaves it on the dash of his truck. The note is simple and to the point. It just reads: I love you, Maud.

Its mirror scene? Aziraphale having The Bentley play Crowley "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square."

Suddenly, we have a whole different tone to Lesley's story happening-- just as the end of S2 expanded to show us a whole different tone to Aziraphale's. Suddenly, the suicide ideation that smashes up at the end of a certain short story about S2's beloved bananafish feels at play here in these stories as well.

Maybe Lesley was never quite as okay as he seemed and that's why he was willing to leave his wife a note and deliver a package to Death. Maybe he didn't exactly mean to die but he also never saw himself as an individual enough to question a directive that would lead to his death. Maybe, contrasting Lesley, there's Aziraphale in S2, going around the neighborhood with his Lesley-like clipboard and giving away his possessions, delivering his own end times, it not yet clear that he's pushing himself too fast too quickly and is headed for a breakdown.

Lesley and Aziraphale are both the only characters to see Death appear in front of them in the series so far and a fall is a kind of death. Lesley is one of the only characters in the series to actually die and he's basically S1's version of The Second Coming already, as he comes back to life when Adam resets reality. Lesley's story is tied to The Final 15 more than we might realize though we likely have to wait until S3 to see it all play out.

Lesley is still on the clock after coming back to life lol. He has learned exactly nothing from this. Him living is somehow as much of a tragedy as if he had died because what happened to him does not appear to have really affected him much and he is still just carrying on, doing the job that is his entire identity. He's picking up a box from two random dudes on a bench in front of a church all wow, what a day, huh! Like, dude... go the fuck home to your wife. You died. Take the evening off. Why the hell are you still at work?!

In this way, he's the complete opposite of both Crowley and Aziraphale, really, as both of them ask enough questions that, even at their worst, they'll never be masking a lack of a sense of self through a false sense of purpose as much as Lesley is.

Whatever else of his story Crowley and Aziraphale wind up mirroring won't be exactly the same but the paralleling stories also meeting a bit for the first time at the end of S1, when Lesley picks up the box, is quite sweet, in that it's not even really the box so much that ties the stories together but the mention of the absent Maud.

Lesley tells the main characters whose story he's crossed into that, if he were to tell his wife what happened to him that day, she wouldn't believe him, right? It's what he says before walking away with the box, leaving us with thoughts of Maud. As Lesley's story finishes in the season, so too does the parallel, and we get to the heart of it through the mention of Lesley's wife, as that is then what causes Aziraphale to look at Crowley with thoughtful fondness. It is taking the spousal parallel the audience sees and showing the characters themselves seeing it, too, as Aziraphale thinks about how he doesn't have to worry that his wife won't believe him today because she's been through it all with him.

Lesley and Maud began in the story seeming to be living the kind of life that Crowley and Aziraphale would love to have for themselves-- and there are elements of that life that Crowley and Aziraphale really would love to have. They're dying for their cottage and some cozy mornings of domestic fluff. What the story winds up showing us, though, is that Crowley and Aziraphale, individually and together, are much more free-thinking than Lesley and that they know one another so much better than Lesley and Maud do. While Lesley and Maud may have a marriage licence and the ability to be in bed together at dawn, they aren't sharing their lives and living a curious, free-thinking one together in the way that Crowley and Aziraphale already do.

[kiealer]

i have a job now, apparently -- got offered as soon as the interview was over, they wanted me to start tomorrow, i said can i please have a couple days first to process this so now apparently i start tuesday instead--

[ceilidho]

coworker soap who frames the fleshlight thing as a joke but with a creepy undercurrent that you cant understand why you know it isnt a joke but you also dont wanna rock the boat so you dont tell hr bc johnny the ex-military man is a model employee otherwise and you cant help but feel hot shame run down ur spine when he says it that you are, at least a little, flattered by it bc shit dude hes HOT. coworker soap who just. doesnt bring it up again. its just boiling rhe frog. he says weird, borderline creepy shit that could be passed off as "guy talk" in any other situation (regardless of readers gender). He follows you around like a puppy and where it used to be normal for you, you feel a little creeped out now but. everyone. already refers to you as a duo. itd be weird if you stopped for no reason? right?

i don't know what broke in my mind long ago that this is like, the weirdly hottest thing in the world to me but im genuinely twitching over it right now.

model employee Johnny, knows the handbook inside and out, walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude. management loves him because his sales are also record high (i mean, it makes sense - i wouldn't be able to say no if he was helping me with a purchase and tried to upsell me). he's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some "jobs for vets" program that they just rolled out (idk i'm making this up). and the guy can stack things on a shelf like no one's business lmao like MILITARY precision/organization.

all your coworkers love him and genuinely like fist pump whenever they get put on the schedule with him because he's a blast to work with, and some of your coworkers are actually incredibly jealous that he just seems to follow you around everywhere. hangs off your every word. always seems to just pop out from around the corner whenever you're having trouble reaching something on a shelf.

but he says weird, uncomfortable shit to you sometimes. way over the line. you don't even know what to say at first when Johnny jokingly tells you that he has a fleshlight at home that he's named after you, just laughs and then stares at you for a second. and you like, give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. until something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, clapping you on the arm and wandering off back to the men's apparel section.

he does a lot of strange shit actually. maybe insists on walking you to your car when the two of you are on the closing shift and it's well into the evening. laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. asks if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. begs management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch.

and you can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. he's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet. they defend him viciously. and the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you standing there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. you'll just have to teach him better.

[churipu]

HAIIII IPIN !!!!!!! can i request gojo, geto, and nanami (separate) having a gf that's really optimistic? just someone who sees the good in everything and anything, and positive at all times! thank SOOOO much !!!!

JJK MEN + OPTIMISTIC GIRLFRIEND

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento x fem! reader

warning. people being mean to u >:(

note. HAIIII ANONN!!! i love this request bcs sometimes i read books, mangas, watch movies, you name 'em and see a certain character having the most positive mindset and i just go must protecc >:( anyways, thank you anon for requesting just after i opened the request box, istg i love all your ideas so much it makes me feel full <;33

GOJO SATORU. absolutely hates the way you try to see the good in people — specifically people who have hurt your feelings in the past. he just wonders what goes on in your mind to just forgive and forget everyone who has wronged you.

you did. but not him.

"baby, that guy called you names when you were in high school!" gojo whines, laying down on the bed, draping an arm over your torso, "why are you still willing to meet him?"

"satoru, he said he was sorry!" you smiled at him, tracing his features softly — the male grumbled but leaned into your touch, "and plus it's not nice to hold grudges, it's been what? how many years?"

a loud whine escapes his throat as he pulled you close, "it doesn't matter how many years it has been, he still hurt your feelings. and nobody does that to my baby," he said, miffed.

you couldn't help but to chuckle, "well, you are coming along, so i have nothing to worry about."

the male grins, "damn right i am coming, he better sleep with one eye open starting from now," gojo threatens.

gojo just cannot wrap his head around your concept of "forgive-and-forget" because you never hold grudges, you forget everything and still talk to people who've wronged you, and you still have the heart to accept them.

as much as people say "forgive and forget", they end up at least holding the tiniest bit of grudge — or even a bigger grudge, right? but you? you don't. you actually forgive and forget.

well — thankfully, not him. he takes his job to protect you seriously, from any kind of harm, including monsters (people who were mean to you) both in the past, present, and possibly the future.

"baby, can you stop hanging out with that one girl? the one who always wears the purple colored eye-shadow?" he asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"hm? why?"

"i don't like the vibe she gives out. it's giving...well...cruella de vil." he murmurs into your neck, nuzzling his nose in content as you went on with your skincare routine.

"satoru," you mumbled, "you can't just judge her by her vibes."

he groans, "but baby, i swear i could just feel it! she's evil," he whispers in your ear.

"satoru."

"okay, fine. just tell me if she does anything to you, i'll give her a piece of my mind (hollow purple)." he mutters out, pouting and upset as you brushed his speculations off.

GETO SUGURU. he loves it and hates it at the same time. geto loves how positive you are against the world — and what more does he need, really? it's you and him against the world at this point, although he feels like he doesn't contribute much to your positive energy (that's what he thinks).

geto thinks of himself as a pretty negative person. and you know. the both of you had a lot of deep talks about everything, including what you both had in mind. and honestly, geto wasn't surprised if he hears you talking about how your life was going smoothly; and his was just a contradiction to what you have.

it's life, people come and go. but geto seemed skeptical of that term, why couldn't people come and stay? he finds it hard to believe that you could be the one leaving him at anytime of the day, and the thought just terrifies the male.

the death of amanai put a hole in his mind that couldn't be closed off, and it fucking scarred him. but you were there for him, you didn't sugar coat words or tell him white lies — you tell him everything, straight to his face, and your choices of words made him feel loved. what else could he ask for?

"'m sorry," he mutters into your shoulder, and his voice comes out a bit muffled.

you brushed his nape gently, "it's alright sugu, you know you don't have to apologize for being sad, right?" you tell him, pressing a kiss onto the side of his head, "it's okay to be a little sad."

sometimes he asks himself if he really deserved you or not. but at the end of the day; you always convince him that he deserved it.

geto hates your optimism sometimes because he watches people trample over you and you brush them off with a smile, it makes him feel angry. he asks himself why you were doing this to yourself? believe me when he tried asking you to try talking back, or putting up a fight.

"angel, you know it makes me kind of sad that you'd let people talk to you that way," he said to you, grazing his finger over your cheek gently.

you shot him a gentle smile, "'ts okay sugu, what good do i get from arguing back to them, really?"

he just pulls you into his embrace, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, saying nothing. god, he just wanted to protect you from the world — why does everyone have to be so fucking mean to you?

"will you be mad if i tell them off for you?" he asks

"depends on your methods, tell me about it."

"threatening them. if it doesn't work, violence." he mutters out briefly.

"sugu, no."

NANAMI KENTO. he doesn't mind it, he finds you endearing, really. a cat getting hurt? he'll accompany you to the vet with it. or a child crying because of a fall? he'll watch you help them without any single thoughts behind.

he just loves how selfless you are. nanami once read a quote, "when given the choice between being right or being kind, choose kind." and every time he sees a selfless act from you — he just kinds of chanted it in his mind, and tell you what, nanami is such a proud boyfriend.

nanami loves how you see the good in everything, a person spilled their food on you? you tell them mistakes happen. a person bumping into you and then blaming you for it? you tell them you're sorry and thought that maybe they just had a really bad day.

but sometimes he couldn't help but to worry over you — someone so positive, bubbly, and optimistic around people who (probably) have disgusting minds. when he's not around to keep an eye on you, he just worries that someone might took advantage of your kindness and throw it out the window.

and he wouldn't be there to stop it from happening.

"ken, i'm going to go out for a hang out. it's fine, i've got my friends with me!" god, the jitters that he gets whenever you mention your friends — he was never really fond of the friends you have now, especially since they were trying hard to earn his attention. he knows they were just using you.

the texts they sent to him behind your back, the shit-talking about you, and everything else. god, he wanted to tell you about it; but he just didn't have the heart to, because he knows it will break your heart.

although nanami told them off quite rudely, defending you — it baffled him to how they still try to hang out with you with no shame after. and he tried telling you about how he doesn't like them, but you tell him it was fine.

"may i come along then?" just the thought of leaving you alone with those people pisses him off to the core, if he can't stop you from being friends with them — he will be with you.

when you agreed, he made it his job to expose them as nicely as he could. and he succeeded, oh the ecstasy he felt when you finally told them you didn't feel like hanging out with them anymore.

(and he ended up showing you the texts).

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[rekino2114]

Gifting the chainsaw man girls a plushie of themselves

A/n: I'm still on vacation and wanted to do a smaller post while i'm free so i saw this prompt around and thought it was adorable, I'll probably do it with more fandoms let me know if you wanna see it

Makima

Thinks it's amazing and will treasure it forever, she specific keeps it on a shelf in her office (most of her subordinates are very confused to see it just sitting there around the paperwork)

She will 100% give you a plushie of yourself to repay you

Might ask you for a pochita plushie to replace the real one since she doesn't want it anymore.

"Oh, It's adorable darling you're so talented, how about I make you one of yourself to match?"

Power

She is confused at first and asks what power (lol) you used to make a mini her but quickly grows to love it.

It's soft and cuddly just like meowy whenever you're not near her you can bet she'll be cuddling those two things to fall asleep.

Definitely brags about it to denji and aki. Where are their small and fluffy versions of them uh?

"*gasp* is that an idol of the great power? Very well I will accept this. T-thank you"

Himeno

Thinks it's the cutest thing ever and immediately hugs you and peppers you In kisses as thanks

Will always keep it on her shoulder or in view in general hoping that someone asks her about it so she can start ranting about how wonderful her partner is

You have found her multiple times passed out drunk hugging the plushie and mumbling about how much she loves you

"Oh my God! Is that me? Thanks so much it's soooo cute, well not as cute as the original of course~"

Kobeni higashiyama

An incredibly blushy mess whenever you give her the plushie but thinks it's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her.

It kinda becomes a comforter for her. Whenever she's more nervous or sad than usual, she hugs the plushie and thinks of you, and it makes her feel at least a bit better

She feels kinda bad about not giving you anything back so she'll probably save the small amount of money she has to buy you a plushie you like.

"O-oh, that's really cute. w-wait, is that m-me? I love it a lot. Thank you so so much"

Quanxi (and her harem)

You immediately got tackled in a hug by 4 of your girlfriends when you showed them plushies of every one of them, quanxi just looked at hers for a while before smiling and joining the group hug

Might genuinely stab someone if they say anything remotely negative about the plushie

She works hard with her girlfriends to make you a plushie of yourself since they thought it wasn't fair that you were the only one in the relationship without one.

"Eh, it really does look like me, you did an amazing job on the girls too, don't worry I'll keep it close at all times"

Asa mitaka

Genuinely can't fathom that you would put effort into making something so cute of her out of everyone and the fact that you gifted her that makes her fall in love with you even more

Always keeps it with her mostly in her bag at school, similarly to kobeni it helps calm her down whenever she's having a bad day, it's a reminder that there is someone willing to love her this much

Yoru once tried to draw the scars on it to make it a plushie of her (just to mess with asa) but thankfully she took control in time

"Wait, seriously? That's....for me? Wow, i- I don't know what to say. Just thank you so much"

Yoru

Acts like she doesn't care that much but actually thinks it's really cute, asa often wakes up finding herself hugging it, courtesy of yoru not being able to sleep without it and taking over during the night.

Definitely brags to asa about it (not realizing it's technically a plushie of both of them)

Might ask you to add some weapons to the plushie to make it more interesting

"Hm? What's that? a plushie? I guess it does kinda resemble me, thanks it is kinda nice"

Fami

She might seem as indifferent as usual but genuinely loves the gesture and thinks it's adorable

She brings it with her whenever she eats (which is most of the time) she even puts a little bib on it, it's really cute to watch

Feels really bad when she gets it dirty (mostly when she's eating) so she'll try cleaning it even if she has no idea how

"I see, so it's a plushie of me. How cute. Thank you, you did a great job"

[ineffablyruined]

Chekhov's Contract

Back again for Day 3 of the Nice and Accurate Prophecies event.

How Will Our Hero Cope?

Today, we let's talk about Crowley. Within the span of a few hours, Crowley has gone to Heaven and learned of another plotted End of the World, watched the closest thing he has to an archnemesis (Gabriel) run off with his demon love of a meager four years and suffer no consequences for it, and left his heart shattered on the floor of the bookshop as the love of his life chooses a job promotion over him. He's not doing great. So what is in store for Crowley in Season 3?

It's honestly hard to predict because there is just so much open space to play with. He could do anything and not one of us would be surprised.

Sleep for a century? There's precedent. Get extremely drunk for weeks on end? That's on brand. Go tit for tat and take a leadership position in Hell just to cancel out Aziraphale in Heaven? Seems unlikely, but I also wouldn't be surprised at that level of petty lashing out.

But I did find one thing. At least, I think I did.

There was, I have now convinced myself, a Chekhov's Gun in Season 2 that I haven't seen anyone talking about. (Apologies if you're out there screaming and I just haven't seen it. I did try searching!)

When Beelzebub kidnaps Crowley from the Bentley and takes him to Hell to discuss the Gabriel situation, they make an offer to Crowley that Crowley later accepts. And what is that?

Find Gabriel for me and you can have whatever your nasty little heart desires.

And what does Crowley do in Episode 6? Finds the writing on the box that tells everyone Gabriel is in the fly. He finds Gabriel for Beelzebub.

Just to emphasize that again - Crowley fulfills his side of a verbal contract forged with the Grand Duke of Hell.

He's now owed whatever his heart desires. And as we've seen, Heaven and Hell operate like businesses. Contracts must be fulfilled. (Excuse me while my little lawyer-nerd heart sings over here.)

And we also know that he's aware that Heaven has plans for Armageddon 2.0.

Where he would absolutely deserve to wallow after all the utter bullshit drama he's gone through, I don't believe that's Crowley (no matter how much fun it makes to write in fanfiction). Crowley isn't just going to sit back and watch the world burn.

In the past, when Crowley has wanted to run away, it's only ever been with Aziraphale. Sure, he threatens he's going to head to Alpha Centauri even when Actually rejects the offer, but he doesn't do it.

And now? Running away with Aziraphale isn't an option because he's gone.

Crowley has nothing left to lose. So he's going to throw his entire self into saving the world, with reckless disregard for his own safety.

And he's going to have a blank check from Hell to do it.

[dalliancekay]

Crowley is not stupid, Aziraphale is not an idiot and other assorted thoughts

Or how nothing is black and white and my bullying home and religious trauma is a metaphor not a direct translation to what our immortals experience. And vice versa. -

I don't know what it's like to hang out on Earth since the beginning but I'm sure it is richer than we can imagine we could imagine.

Our two favourite, currently men shaped beings, are captured for our storytelling enjoyment when their time on the Green Planet is about to be cut off.

One has been thrown out from their family home ages ago, we are not sure for what misdemeanour exactly, and is now working for a dumpy place where they don't mind inflicting pain if you misbehave nor do they care whether a trial is fair. So, a mafia, basically. And our hero is tasked with collecting new additions to the unhappy family on top of that. He doesn't much care for it and seems to do the bare minimum only.

The other has been sent to the young planet to guard the indigenous humans and told something vague about an Ineffable Plan that will all work out when there's a War in a few thousand years, which 'our, the Good, side' will win and everyone will be happy. Just tell the humans to behave and if they don't kick up a fuss, we will welcome them Here.

And Here is a vast, empty place, well lit, with busy, lonely bees working and filing, and checking, making sure rules are in place and are followed as written and everything is ticking over; the higher ranks' punishments rare but swift. Everyone has learnt a lesson when half of them were unceremoniously fired when someone said some nasty things about the CEO. So things might not be perfect but at least if you stick to your tasks you will be left alone.

So, we meet demon Crowley, whose family threw him out as mentioned above and his job sucks and he hates it but it's not hard and his placement is rather a nice place so he does his best to not to lose the position. Sometimes he wonders what is the point of it all and that's when he runs into his adorable archenemy, the angel Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was sent to Earth and given a job, one that doesn't seem to quite work out (or does it?) as he follows his heart instead of the rules almost immediately but surprisingly is not punished for it by the CEO. So he spends his time helping the natives, following orders he receives as best as he can and when he runs into his archenemy the demon, he feels a certain strange tingle and flutter in his heart at the sight of the rulebreaker.

They have done a fair job of it for 6 millennia. They avoid getting fired and even manage to take on each other's tasks to lighten up the load and the (pointlessly) random business trips (does anyone Up or Down there ever heard of geography?)

When we meet our heroes in present day-ish, they've been told the End of the World sequence has been triggered and life as they know it is about to end. 

How do they feel about this? Well. Our demon is appalled. He knew this was coming. But not really. It's just something to sort of work towards right? After all, the Earth has been developing rather nicely. The alcohol got better, the food for his Angel, the music got interesting, the clothes tighter... He's having a good time. Yes, he pushes his luck sometimes. Sleeps too long, gives in and saves someone instead of ruining them. He gets into all kinds of tangles to spend time with his crush. He is rash but he's not stupid. He knows what's at stake. But he's angry. And sometimes that's hard to contain. He does go too fast. But Aziraphale is always there to catch him. And if he can't, he waits and worries and is there when Crowley returns.

So about the angel? He knows he should dislike the demon. He knows he should follow his directives. He knows he should not meet or talk to Crowley. And what does he do? Gets himself arrested in his fanciest silks so they can have crepes when the world and humanity is bringing them down with their relentless hate towards each other. He puts on a magical performance when the demon fails to deliver some contraband liquor in the midst of the Blitz bombing.

And, now. Here's the funny bit. Angel has gotten himself a part time job in the past few centuries. He's had a few before, but not quite like this. He has a place he loves now. A safe, cluttered place where a demon is welcome. It's not much like his original home. You could say... it's rather quite the opposite of it. In any case, he never really got on with his managers but tbf he likes his job. It makes the humans happy and he loves the humans and loves making them happy.

He also does not want the world to end. But his fam has always told him that once this bit is over, an even better one will come along. What that bit is was never quite explained but then, asking questions was always frowned upon and rather vehemently so. He's noticed this from the get go... unlike a red headed angel he once knew...

What is my point?

That neither Crowley or Aziraphale are wrong. Or right. Doing the correct thing. Or not. Me. You. We come from broken families, we have been friends and lovers with bad people, we have escaped religions, cults, home countries. Lies. Rules. Hate. We have fought for our love to be recognised as love.

Crowley and Aziraphale live in a world where Heaven and Hell is real. Where Satan rules over a smelly place with mould on the walls and God is engrossed in her sci fi novels and seems to have forgotten about Her Earth project.

You can't call Aziraphale stupid for believing in God. She exists. Whether She has a plan is open to debate, sure. She seems to have claimed so at some point, but then, we all change don't we. Maybe She changed Her mind and forgot to tell the upper management. Maybe She thought She didn't need to spell out all the details to them so they kill Job's kids. Maybe She was vague on purpose much in the style of King Henry II and Thomas Beckett.. Anyway. Back to Aziraphale, our angel on Earth. He is kind, has hope, wants to believe after thousands, millions of years. And this is not stupid. Aziraphale does and is brave, courageous things. And he's slowly learning to trust himself more too. To know the difference. It started with the sword and his overthinking on the giving away of it. He made a decision to protect Job's children. Risked Falling for it. Trusted the demon over his bosses. Not because Heaven is WRONG. Yes, they are. But the thing is they don't care. And Aziraphale does. He cares about humanity. And he cares about Crowley.

Nobody noticed (or did they) how our two field agents fell in love (neither did they tbf) and how fiercely they guard the little secret they share. The smiles and the glances, the small flowers of hope that things can change one day.

And they did change. Plan A, War and Destruction, did not work out. The youngster they sent from Below decided he likes the new place and refused to ruin it. They both learned things. They are still learning. The demon how to trust again. The angel how to question things.

So what's next? The place Above is going to send their trusted agent. He followed the rules last time seamlessly. It did not quite work out but no problem, they'll send Him out again. With a rather more final arrangement.

In the meantime, the disgraced and rather troubling Earth agents have been lying low. Unsure of their places and overall safety, they went on with their lives as best as they could until the angel happened to help his former boss run away with his paramour from the other side and is visited by the Big Boss.

Big Boss wastes no time and suggests to our angel he should come back Upstairs and take the place of his disgraced superior. To use his skills. To be better looked after I suppose. New opportunities. To be close to the big upcoming decisions or - under a close watchful eye.

Aziraphale, not surprisingly, refuses. He does not want to put any of his 'skills' to any good causes but his own. But then. THEN. He is not so subtly made aware that his dangerous liaisons with the other side have been noted and his help in the latest Complication might not go unpunished if he's not careful.

And this job offer suddenly seems FAR more sinister than it did 15 minutes ago. Especially when it is handed over with a coffee (that he does not much like) from a place called Give Me Coffee Or Give me Death.

Our angel goes home to cautiously tell his demon about the trouble they are in and his world comes crashing down around him.

This post turned out to be completely different to what I originally wanted to write. Is there a point? You decide.

Aziraphale's decision makes complete sense, he loves the Earth, his home and Crowley over and above everything else. And he WILL fight for their safety. AND the humans in the process if he can.

This is my very first Tumblr post. Way to go me etc. Please be kind.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slippery when wet

pairing: post re8! chris x reader

cw: fingering, thigh grinding, thumb sucking, reader is frothing at the mouth (metaphorically)

summary: reader applies to babysit chris' child (he's rose's legal guardian in this one), and she's v into her boss. one day, she ends up in nothing but chris' shirt when her clothes are in the laundry.

a/n: title not inspired by the bon jovi album (doesn't really fit the vibe, despite having some bangers)

wc: 2.4k

“Jobs that don’t require a degree”. You type it into the search bar for the millionth time this week. Grocery store clerk, delivery driver, server, you’ve tried them all. And quit them all. You’re going to have to settle for working as a coal miner soon - and you’re a 21 year old girl who lives nowhere near a coal mine. 

Babysitter. You’ve done it before, when you were younger. In fact, as exhausting as the job was, you were actually pretty good at it. Maybe you could even get a referral from your neighbors. The job posting was on a local message board online. The pay looked like a sweet deal - top tier babysitter pay. Could probably hire a nice German or Spanish or Russian au pair and make your kid bilingual, but these parents chose to ask your town of American idiots to apply. Parent, singular - not even parent - you come to find. He’s her legal guardian, which probably means her parents are dead or in prison but you don’t think it’s appropriate to ask such invasive questions at your interview. Not if you want the job, at least. And you really want the job. 

The interview is surprisingly casual, which is good because it’s not like you own business attire. You expected this: a young woman with a tired - and very forced, almost pained - smile comes to the door holding the cranky child while the dad shakes your hand on the way out to spend the day with his buddies from college. Their attempt to quell their marriage problems by getting a sitter will not get them off their track to divorce.

But it doesn’t go like that at all. A man - older than you’d think a new father should be, but far from elderly - opens the door. (honestly, if he were elderly, then you’d be whatever the opposite of a cradle-robber is. A nursing home robber?). Mr. Legal Guardian tall, muscular, kind of intimidating, but also incredibly sexy. He could choke you out but you’d get wet if he tried. Actually, you’d probably soak his nice hardwood floors if he so much as touched you since all he’s done is shake your hand and you’ll probably need to change your panties when you get home. 

Either you’re good at hiding your feelings or he couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re trying very hard to keep eye-contact and avoid the overwhelming urge to look and see if you can tell what he’s packing through the pants he has on. 

“I’m Chris Redfield. Nice to meet you,” he says and you’re really hoping that you said your own name in response and not what you were thinking which was “Oh god, please fuck me, Mr. Redfield, I don’t care about the job anymore”. 

You’re pretty sure you kept that thought on the inside because he seems to think this situation is totally normal and ignores the obvious sexual tension - or maybe it’s just you and there’s no real tension. Maybe you need to buy one of those fancy Hitachi wands and fix the leaky faucet downstairs. You’d need money for that. Money… Oh, right, you can get a job! How convenient. 

You keep the conversation going because you want to hear him talk, you want to burn it onto a CD in your brain and play it on the car ride home. No, you’d crash if you did that. 

He tells you the baby girl’s name is Rosemary.

“That’s a pretty name. How did you decide on it?” Or did your wife choose it? Was the divorce bad? Or is she dead? 

“I didn’t. Her parents did. I don’t know if it was her mom or her dad’s choice,” he says, matter-of-factly. “I think it’s a good name, too,” he follows up with, “Mostly, everyone just calls her Rose, though.”

“It’s probably easier. I’d imagine it’d be hard for a baby to say ‘Rosemary’.” You realize you know very little about child development. “Can she talk?”

“Some. Only small sentences and she still pronounces half of what she’s trying to say wrong, but she usually gets the point across. She calls me ‘Dada’ because it’s easier to say than ‘Chris’.”

Is she gonna call me ‘Mama’? Does she need a stepmom… or whatever? Anyway, can you please, please have sex with me, Mr. Redfield? If you don’t get dick soon, they’ll have to institutionalize you.

You must’ve done way better than you thought because you got the job. You’re lucky that Rose is more well-behaved than most babies you’ve met. 

She does call you ‘Mama’, though. 

You bring a change of clothes to work every day because babies don’t know how to avoid making a mess of everything they get their little fingers on. Rose is pretty tidy for a kid her age, but her favorite food is ketchup, so half of your wardrobe is stained red by the second week of work. 

One day, she’s sitting in your lap holding a sippy cup of apple juice with a lid you were sure you’d closed, but as it turned out, it had not been screwed on right and the bottom of your shirt as well as your jeans end up soaked in apple juice. You only have yourself to blame. 

You brush off the issue to the kid because you don’t want to upset her, but you hate being sticky. She’s lucky she gets a bath. You don’t think Chris would appreciate finding you in his bathtub, playing with rubber duckies, unfortunately. 

Once Rose is in new, dry clothes, Chris walks in the door. Rose reaches out to him and he picks her up. He notices the wet patch on your jeans and you realize how it looks when he raises an eyebrow. 

“Did you piss yourself?” 

“No!” 

You’re about to explain the apple juice spill situation when Rose chimes in, repeating what Chris said, without any idea what she’s saying. 

The way he groans makes it seem like it’s not the first time she’s picked up bad language. “Those aren’t nice words. Don’t repeat them.” Chris tries to remain serious, but you’re both holding back laughter. 

“It’s just apple juice,” you clarify, “My fault, not hers.”

“Do you need new clothes?”

“In theory,” you say because you do, but you don’t want to impose. 

Rose yawns and Chris says, “How about you put her down and I will find something else for you to wear?”

“Okay,” you say because it’s shorter than, “No, no, you don’t have to do that.” Plus, he will inevitably insist that “Yes, yes, he has to do that.”

Rose is reluctant to go to bed without saying goodnight to ‘Dada’. Luckily, he joins the both of you in her bedroom, holding clothes for you. 

“Here,” he says, “I don’t have any pants that’ll fit you, but I think this shirt will probably go down to your knees.”

“Thanks,” you say, taking the shirt. 

“No problem,” he says, “Go change and bring me your clothes so I can wash them.”

You nod and walk into the hall bathroom. Chris is right - the shirt is about mid-thigh length, so as long as you don’t bend over, you’re covered. It was probably a bad day to wear a thong to work, though. Or maybe it was a great day to do just that. Glass half-full?

You find Chris in the hallway and you give him a slew of apologies and thank you’s because you feel bad that he’s doing your laundry. He dismisses them all kindly, but the look in his eye has changed - scrutinizing, yet amused. 

“Normally, I would say, ‘you’re free to go’, but -”

Am I getting punished? God, fuck, yes, please. 

“- You probably shouldn’t wear that out.”

You look down at your state of dress - or undress, depending on how you look at it. Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t go out like that.

“You can if you want,” he says, “but you’re welcome to stay at least until your clothes dry.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

You’re standing awkwardly in his living room when he says, “You know you can sit down, right?”

You sit down next to him on the couch - an appropriate distance away, of course. There’s an awkward silence while you try not to stare at him. 

“Why are you so nervous? You’re acting like you’ve never been here before,” he says.

“For one thing, I’m not wearing pants right now. And, two, I’ve never been here while you’re here. I’m always here alone with Rose.”

“Do I make you nervous?” His smile says he knows more than you think. 

“No, not really.”

“Not really?”

You smile and nod. 

“Rose told me something she heard you say while I was gone…” “Oh shit. Did I swear in front of her? I try not to do that.”

He shakes his head. “She said, ‘Dada is sexy’, and as you can imagine, I was curious as to where she heard that…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but his eyebrow is raised. He knows.

Your heart is beating out of your chest and you can feel your face flushing. 

“She must’ve heard that from someone else,” you lie. 

“Who else would’ve said it?”

“I bet most people think you’re sexy. I mean, look at you, it seems like the most obvious conclusion any normal person would come to.” You shrug, trying to play it off as if you didn’t just reveal yourself entirely. 

“So, you didn’t say anything about my attractiveness in front of Rose, but you do think I’m ‘sexy’? Am I correct?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No, it’s a rhetorical question.”

You’d bolt out of the room if you had pants on, but now - wearing nothing but Chris’ t-shirt and a thong? It looks like you’ve already slept with him. 

You try to form a sentence, but much like Rose, all you can do is echo Chris’ words. “Do you think I’m sexy?” you ask. 

“Much more so than you were when I walked in - you know, with apple juice all over you.”

“So, you do feel the same way about me?”

“Correct.”

He looks like he’s thinking, considering next moves, but you’re already scooting closer to him on the couch. He hums in approval. He picks you up and puts you in his lap. 

“Do you wa-” He tries to say, but you cut him off with a kiss and he takes it in stride. One of his hands rests on the back of your head and the other is on your waist. His tongue is in your mouth and you think you can feel him getting hard, which makes you wetter than you already were, and now you’re really considering if this thong was of any use at all. Guess one more thing needs a wash. 

Chris reaches between your thighs like a psychic, though he acts surprised at how aroused you are. “Are you always this wet?”

“No, not always.” Liar.

“I’ll take it as a compliment then.”

As he should. 

His hands snake their way under your - his - t-shirt and find your tits. His fingertips brush your nipples and you absent-mindedly start to grind on him, longing for any friction you can get. You’ll ruin his pants at this point. Another load of laundry to do. 

He takes your hips and positions you on his thigh. 

“This should help,” he says. 

Out of embarrassment, you halt the movement of your hips. 

“What? It seemed like you wanted to get off and I’m not going to stop you.”

He acts nonchalant but it borders on teasing because you can see the amusement in his eyes. Maybe he’s not used to desperate little girls like you. 

You grip his shoulders to steady yourself - if you’re going to pathetically grind on this man’s thigh, you’re going to do it right - and you resume your back and forth pattern. You catch a glimpse of the smirk on his face and you let your head drop, not allowing yourself to look him in the eye. There’s no way you’d be able to continue like that. He lifts your chin, but it’s not to force your eyes back on him - he kisses you again, more passionately this time. Not romantic passion, the sexy, sloppy kind. You pull back first to catch your breath. Maybe it’s just nerves, but this whole thigh-riding activity is doing a number on you. Chris takes note of your struggle and puts his hands on your hips, taking on half of the work. Somehow, he does a better job than you, and if he’s this good at something so simple, you wonder about his other skills. 

“Suck,” he says simply, putting his thumb between your lips. 

In that moment, you discover your oral fixation - and Chris is observant enough to recognize it too. 

“Good girl,” he says, removing his thumb from your mouth and using it to rub your clit. He really didn’t need the lubrication and he must’ve known that. Admittedly, you’re a bit disappointed when he takes his thumb away from you. 

“It seemed like you were enjoying that,” he says, rubbing his other thumb over your bottom lip. You open your mouth and hope he won’t make you beg for it. “You’re lucky I have two hands.”

He flips you around so that you’re sitting in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. He returns his thumb to your mouth before you can grab it and shove it back in there yourself. You are lucky he has two hands, you come to fine, when he begins pumping two of his fingers in and out of you while rubbing your clit simultaneously. You moan around the finger in your mouth and he can tell you’re getting close. 

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks. 

You hum and nod frantically as your orgasm approaches quickly. Your inner walls clench and release as you gush around his fingers. When you come down from your high, you notice that you’ve left a considerable wet patch on the couch and on Chris’ pants.

“Don’t worry. We can do another load of laundry after this one’s finished,” he says. He checks the time and then says, “It looks like we have about 25 more minutes until the washing machine’s done. What do you want to do until then?”

“Depends? How much laundry detergent do you have left?”

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Same anon from last time, but skskfjd I have so much to yap about?? Especially about my personal favs

The last Ritsu fic just make me think of Leo version, for some reason. Because like, this man, this guy, this Satan spawn if he was sent to the future and somehow, miraculously ended with Leo, he straight up the type to go into denial.

Like, him?? Leo?? The 600k influencer?? Where all of his fans is dying to be with him and a much better option (dramatic ass) somehow ended up with the NPC?? He's having an identity crisis because did he lose his taste in people already?? He blame Darkwick for not allowing to leave all the time because he ended up settle down for the "Honor Roll" or the "Useless NPC"

He probably think or believe he ended up with MC because she must've been desperate to be in a relationship. Of course, he's the Leo after all, everyone would wanted to be with him, even the basic NPC themselves. (Spoiler alert; he's the one who fell first and hard. Who's the one into the chick now, Leo?)

The diabolical streamer gets married?? (No click bait)

Leo wakes up in an unknown yet familiar room where he discovers some things about the future

Wc: 2,1K

Notes: it's implied you two were about to have sex.

No beta, if I have to close the document again I will die. Who would have guessed rewriting the same thing three times would make you fed up with it? /S

If leo is kinda ooc let's just say the anomaly made him more mellow jsjs

The thumping pulsation of his heartbeat inside his skull, pushing against the bone seeking to burst, does an unsurprising better work at waking him than any alarm clock, the pain ripping the sleep away from Leo in each of its quick waves.

One of his hands falls between his eyebrows, applying force against them that rolled down his temporal to the occipital where it pooled as honey-thick pleasurable pressure, even though it did an underwhelming job at soothing the ache to say the least. It's unlike any hangover he had ever gotten.

“Why in hell does my head hurt so fucking much?” It isn't like he has been drinking lately, ever since coming to darkwick the only chance at getting drinks was when he gets an R&R accepted, which Alan hasn't done in a good few days. At one point he thought that obscuary’s bar might sell him booze, given Romeo's complaints about a ‘drunk’ Haru, but they were just anomalous drinks that mimicked it so he wouldn't get a hangover either way.

Extending his hand towards the nightstand Leo starts patting around trying to find his phone to call Sho so he gets him some aspirin or something. After a few failed attempts he reluctantly starts opening his eyes slowly only to see that his phone wasn't there. Did he forget it at the bar? Or maybe sober designated driver Sho decided to take it away so he wouldn't embarrass himself?

Before he can even start cussing his friend out a whiff of sweet chocolate catches his nose. Could it be that he finally caved in and made him the trendy chocolate pastries shaped like dachshunds he has been asking him to? He always refused to, saying things like ‘cooking isn't the same as baking’ or ‘it’s really precise, I can't just throw things in a bowl and hope it works out’ but it seems he is humoring Leo again.

Now in a better mood, he peeks a leg under the unusually nice and heavy comforter and starts looking for his slippers still laying down. When he finds one he sits up and follows the smell.

Dragging his feet across the tiled floors Leo doesn't notice how different the floorplan -or everything really- is to Vagastorm, the white paint on the walls pristine rather than dirty with dubious substances and the hallway has a lingering scent of bergamot and sage clinging to clean AC cooled breeze, totally different to the drowning rust and oil hanging in suffocating hot air. Strangely enough he doesn't notice either how naturally he navigates without even one though forming, almost as if he was familiar with it.

Stopping just under the arch leading to the dining room, his enthusiasm falters as the white plate on the glass table was holding, disappointingly, not his pastries but cut up brownies with some red flakes over, maybe chili flakes? It would still be a spicy dessert so curious he reaches a hand over but before his fingers even graze it a playful voice scolds him like a little child.

“They are still hot! I don't want you whining about stomach ache”

If ghouls weren't more sturdy than humans Leo is 100 percent sure he would have gotten whiplash with the way his head snapped towards the right, surprised at your presence. Despite what he might have normally done, going on and on about how much of an obsessive fan you were for hanging out around his room and how he would make Darkwick get a restraining order on you, something inclined him to do nothing, almost feeling like it was obviously natural for you to be here.

It isn't until you start walking towards him, a playful smirk on your face, that he notices that there is a baby no older than ten months hanging on your hip.

Now beside him, your hand combs his bed hair, raking his scalp with the blunt end of your nails, the few times his ashy gray hair tangled around your fingers and got pulled, his nerves and spine trembled slightly. Even if he reasons pulling away –He cares so much about his hair, spending a good amount of money and time on it only for a nobody NPC to spread skin oils on it?!– the surprising ease that came with your touch urged him to stay and rest against the warmth

“Did Emmy wake you up? it's unusual for you to wake up so early” looking through his eyelashes, the black minimalist asymmetrical clock with cherry red arms points to 7:30. How come he woke up so early? When he spends the night editing or doxxing he barely can stand at 12:45. The sleep still hanging to his yellow eyes reminds him of when Alan bangs on his door to force him to train “were you editing that video up late?”

“Video?”

Putting your daughter in the highchair you start tinkering inside the kitchen, cutting some berries and fruit, grabbing a plastic bowl shaped like a panda and putting a dollop of yogurt before sprinkling chia seeds “weren't you doing a summary video for our anniversary? Your fans are kind of pushy about it, and I know you defend them saying they are mostly teens but…”

Tuning out the rambling as background noise, Leo's yellow eyes meet matching ones on the high chair, looking up to him with such an innocent love he can feel awkwardness seeping out of his bones, seeing something so small and weak put so much trust on someone who regularly scams rich old men.

“But I guess it's whatever” coming back to the table you settle the bowl in front of the toddler and face him again, now slightly worried “are you feeling alright, Leo?”

“I must be missing too much sleep lately” the words leave his mouth before he can even think about them

“Sho mentioned sending you some things for it if you wanted them”

“Hmm… guess I should see if I can finish it already” Leo reaches for his phone that was laying on the table and unlock it as he walks to his study, a big desk with a three monitor setup and a green screen. Throwing himself on the couch Leo opens his Whatsapp and sees that his chat with Sho has a bunch of notifications, most if not all videos.

Leisurely scrolling through the miniature one of them catches his eye.

It's an off centered video inside his Vagastorm dorm, very obviously taken as a prank on him.

Both of you are laying down on his bed and seeing something on his phone.

“I don't like that one, you look weirder than usual” without giving you a chance to refuse he scrolls to the next picture.

“We have gone through 45 pictures, what is the fuss about?”

“A makeup brand wants to send a PR package for Valentine's so you need a proper headshot” scrolling away 5 or more photos in rapid fire he sighs into your shoulder.

“Why don't we take a few in my phone?”

“No way, your camera sucks”

“If it's so much of a drag why not just decline? It isn't like you need some spare cash ”

“If I don't post -anything- for Valentine's my fans are going to think we are going through a hard patch and you already saw how weird they can be” it is very obvious for you that he means last Valentine's when a swarm of fans chased after you two like paparazzi. Even then he digs his head deeper in the junction of your neck and his arms hug you closer.

“Is that all?” You ask teasingly and he mumbles something into your skin “hum? I didn't catch that”

“I want all those bastards to know you are mine”

For a second it almost seems like the video froze but suddenly the half of his body he can see is dragged off screen to the right side of the bed.

“Aren't you too sweet to be the demonic influencer~~?” The phone's audio managed to catch some soft mwahs.

“Stop slobbering over my face I have to meet-! Oh~ I don't mind this too much actually”

And the video cuts to black.

A curse towards his friend slips from his mouth before wondering why exactly he has a slight memory of the event like staring at a rock under muddy water.

Sighing and turning off his phone Leo's devilish yellow eyes turn to the monitor displaying the screensaver. It isn't even one second before his natural curiosity takes over and wants to start snooping, wanting to see any future trends or blackmail he could use -would it even be snooping if it's his own computer?- and as soon as the wireless mouse moves the oh so famous video pops on the editing app.

The frame he left it at was the ending of the wedding ceremony, just after the telling of vows. At the beginning it is quite far away, just enough to distinguish who they are by rough features but as the couple -or some reason it's less embarrassing to say couple than say you and him- get closer to kiss so does the camarographer, quickly panning closer until both of your faces are encased in the frame. His caramel eyes dripping with such sweetness it reaches out from the screen to his tongue and makes him sick.

“Aww, looking kind of sour over here” your hands smooth the shoulders of his pajamas before digging each thumb under his shoulder blade attempting to undo years of hunching over work and making him sit up straight “feeling kind of jealous I haven't been paying much attention to you lately?”

Sliding a hand up the column of his neck, the nails softly scraping the skin making him sigh and almost inaudible “NPC” Through half open eyes Leo sees your face getting closer and how your lips curve into a smile.

“Back to that stupid name like back at the academy? Last time I checked I was LI” hot lips climb up and around his neck and behind his left ear “reminiscing about those times now? How about we reenact something else from back then?” slowly he moves his head to the side, Instigated by the thumb pressing on his cheek. Instinctually he opens his mouth.

Something wet enters his mouth and his hair is pulled up dragging his head above water.

“dude, are you okay?!” Sho yelps, patting him harshly on the back to get the water out of his lungs “I knew this wasn't a good idea”

Roughly Leo elbows Sho let him go and he sits on the floor feeling his lungs and nose burn each time he breathes in.

As his sight stops being obscured by thick black fog his surroundings get clearer. It was supposed to be an offhanded mention by their teacher but, after the class insisted, he took them to an exceptionally big marble bird pond he claimed a person could see their future in if they dipped their head in yet he refused to allow any of the students to do so.

Unsurprisingly Leo's curiosity got the better of him and Sho fell alongside him, sneaking in to see if it was true.

Just behind Sho someone he wishes didn't have to see in a while appears, you.

“What is the NPC doing here?”The question fell from his lips almost like a hiss.

“Alan saw you two leaving Vagastorm after curfew and asked me to check” given how Leo seemed still too winded to stand sho tells you to help him drag him back to their dorm. As you hunch besides him and slide his arm behind your neck you notice something under his shirt “Leo, you have a cut there!” it isn't weird noting how he was positioned and the somewhat sharp edge of the birdpond.

Your fingers dance over the thin but long cut just above his clavicle, the white skin irritated red.

Regardless of how innocent this touch around his neck was, it was impossible to separate it from the previous sight into the future with the current one.

Now with newly gained strength he swats your hand away “don't get so handsy so quickly, NPC” and slides both arms over Sho's shoulders who just sighs and carries him princess style.

“Bye, senpai” Sho shoots you a quick goodbye before going away with Leo who he notices is far too quiet than usual but as he looks down he finds him blushing and even his ears dusted with cherry red “why are you even red faced? It isn't even the first time I hold you like this… Oh don't tell me-”

“Shut the fuck up”

“First bet you lose”

[sunflowerxthoughts]

Just the two of us- Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: Eddie has a girlfriend. Hellfire hates her, Dustin is not sure yet. What happens when they take the teasing a little too far?

a/n: I made the boys a bit too mean in this one but anything for the plot I guess. I had a bad day so here's some angst.

TW: Bullying, the guys being mean. Angst :(

+ 18 MINORS DNI

Eddie and Y/N's relationship had been new for the both of them and the rest of group. It was hard adjusting. Suddenly there was a girl sitting with them. Suddenly there's someone watching Hellfire. The crowd of drunks now has a girl in them too. And they don't like the change.

It's not like Eddie was spending all of his time with her. He tried to balance it as much as he could. But of course he was so smitten with her he couldn't help but want to spend more time with the literal girl of his dreams.

Dustin... Dustin secretly liked her. She was sweet, he liked having a healthy relationship he could look up to when it came to his own girl and most importantly, Y/N had never judged them. And that was great in his books, but the pressure to dislike her was making him rethink the whole thing.

And now, of course it seems like the most awkward thing in the world. Eddie is late for lunch and everyone is in their usual seats. Only the table is completely silent and she is starting to overthink if she even belongs there. The teasing she could handle, the silence was cutting through her like a knife.

"So" she starts, looking up from her lunch. "Um Eddie is late."

"We can see that, thanks." Mike replies coldly.

"Tough crowd, okay." She whispers to herself.

She eats her lunch in silence, Dustin wants to smack Mike into oblivion until Gareth speaks, and all hell breaks.

"Why are you sitting here then?"

"Sorry?" She asks surprised. Sure Gareth hadn't been nice to her, but this was a little harsher than ususal.

"I asked why are you sitting here. Eddie is not here and the only reason you are welcome is because he is now dragging you by his side all the time. It's annoying."

"Gareth mayb-" Dustin can't even speak before Mike cuts him off.

"It really is, what did Eddie see in you anyway?" She starts to tear up then. No matter how tough you are, sometimes people just break when you have so many kids absolutely destroying you for no reason. "All you do is sit around all clingy, I'm surprised he has not broken up with you yet."

"What?"

"We're all waiting for the moment he realises you are not good enough and he stops waiting his time and our time on you." Jeff adds. "We don't have a DM anymore, we have a lovesick puppy who you somehow have tricked to like you. Good job, but it won't work with us."

"Guys you are being mean!" Dustin tries to stop them while she gathers all of her stuff in her bag. "She has done nothing to us."

"Can it, Dustin." Gareth says, "You aren't welcome here, grab your stuff and just go, do whatever you do when you aren't clinging to Eddie."

"You know what?" She starts, holding back tears. "Fine. I'll go break up with Eddie right now. See how you face him when you take one thing he actually enjoys and throw it down the drain because you are selfish little boys who deal with being bullied by bullying others. You are now at the same level as Carver. Congratulations boys, you've made it. I hope you are happy."

She's out of there before they can answer and Dustin is following behind her trying to stop what is going to be a huge fight for everyone involved. When he sees them talk, he knows it might be too late.

"Y/N wait don't! Don't break up with him please."

"What?"

"I'm sorry Eds, it's for the best. Maybe we're just not meant for each other. It's okay."

Dustin's heart breaks right then and there and so does Eddie's. She doesn't dare mention what happened because she wants him to at least have someone there. Eddie really does value his friends.

She is out there and heading home before either of them really take in what had just happened. Dustin doesn't really know what to say. But the guilt eats him alive when you don't show up in school for the rest of the week and cancels everything. He thinks he is going to explode, but even risking losing his friends, he knows he has to talk to him.

"Eddie can we talk?"

"Not right now."

"It's about Y/N"

That sparks Eddie's curiosity and his whole body language changes. He perks up but he just gets sadder.

"It wasn't for the best Eddie, it was because of them."

"Huh?"

"The guys..."

Eddie sees red. He sets up an emergency meeting and it's a bloodbath. He yells, he cries and he doesn't break anything only because it's school property and he doesn't have the money to pay for it. And after all is said and done. Eddie is fucking ready to climb outside her window.

The knocks startle her from her little pit of despair and ice cream. She knows it can only be Eddie and she doesn't know if she is ready to face him, but she does. Because after all, she'd do everything for him.

"I love you" He says as soon as she opens the window and he falls to his knees.

"Wha-"

"I'm in love with you and I couldn't care less about what they think of you. The only time I haven't felt like a failure outside of Hellfire is with you. And maybe I'm shit at expressing my emotions but everytime you hold my hand my heart just races and when I go to sleep I just want to wake up to see you again. Because for some reason you have decided I get to love you and I'm so, so in love with you."

"Eddie they're your friends-"

"And best believed I yelled at them. You are so nice to them, they had no right to be that mean to you. You make me happy and they should be happy about it."

"I'm not clingy?"

"Please I'd take you anywhere with me if I could."

"I'm not annoying'"

"If you are annoying, what would that make me?"

"My boyfriend, if you'll have me again."

"I'll be your boyfriend anyway you are. I don't care. And you are not annoying." He smiles and grabs her by the waist. "Now" He kisses her. "That's better. How about we put on a movie and forget about the world for a bit. We can deal with everything later."

"Just the two of us?"

"Until the end of the world, baby."

[swanimagines]

CAUGHT IN HIS WORLD | KAZ BREKKER

Summary: Kaz asking you to accompany him for a job makes you think it'd be a nice opportunity to spend time with him, but instead you end up breaking and entering to one of the most feared gang's warehouse, and that doesn't exactly meet your morals.

You had always been a good and obedient child, raised in a wealthy family of merchants, that valued order and stability. But there was one person who made you question who you were, who you were supposed to be - and that person was Kaz Brekker.

The boy quickly gaining reputation as a ruthless killer, a child demon. He’d even get called Dirtyhands after he started to wear his gloves, for all the horrible things he did - some kids not much younger than him were taught that if they didn’t behave, Dirtyhands would come and take them. Him breaking his leg and getting a cane just intensified the rumours somehow, even the weakness was turned into something scary.

And you had fallen for him of all people. You had tried to push your feelings down - you really had. But it wasn’t that simple, maybe the life he lived was why you felt so drawn to him. So you sought for his company, hung out with him as much as he let you, and eventually he seemed to warm up to you too. Or at least he didn’t snap at you as much as before.

One day, Kaz asked if you wanted to accompany him for a job. He was being vague about the details, but honestly you didn’t mind, you’d enjoy spending time with him - even if a small voice at the back of your head was telling you that it was a bad idea. So here you were, walking through the dark alleys of Ketterdam, slightly uneasy about shady people lurking in the shadows. You thanked the Saints you were with Kaz while there, he’d kill everyone trying to ambush you, and people knew it.

Finally, you stopped in front of a warehouse and Kaz scanned his surroundings quickly. His gaze fell on the large lock hanging from the door and took out a small pouch of lockpicks, laying his cane against the wall and kneeling down on his good leg as he started working on the lock.

Was he breaking into a warehouse? Your heart started pounding in your chest, you had known in a way that you shouldn’t have come with him, but you had been too wrapped around Kaz’s dangerous aura to resist it.

“Wait,” you asked, for some reason hoping Kaz had a legitimate reason to do it. “Do we have a permission to do this?”

“Of course,” he replied, not even glancing at you. “Hein Middelesch asked me to snatch some jewelry and some papers to claim the ownership of certain shops at the Barrel. He’s a real gentleman, helping a rivaling gang like that.”

You swallowed, recognising the name. “H-Hein Middelesch? The leader of Grinning Cats? Kaz-”

The lock gave a click on that moment and opened, and then the door was open, and Kaz headed inside, without letting you finish the sentence.

The warehouse wasn’t that big, but the clicks of Kaz’s cane still echoed through the hall. You followed him meekly, feeling like you had just committed a murder of some kind. Kaz began looking through the cabinets and boxes, once in a while stuffing items to his pockets, and you glanced around, basically being scared of your own shadow.

After a few minutes of just standing there, you cleared your throat. “Kaz, um. I don’t know if it’s wise to be here. What if we get caught? The Cats are known to dig eyes out–”

“You can always walk out of the door.” Kaz interrupted, not even giving you a glance.

You sighed. “I… I don’t want to leave you here alone. It’s just that, my family wouldn’t think this is a good idea.”

Kaz moved onto the next box, and you almost heard an eyeroll in his words. “Of course they wouldn’t, they’re too busy to count their kruge and looking down at us Barrel rats.”

You felt a twinge of anger at his words. “That’s not fair. My family has worked hard for our wealth, unlike Pekka Rollins for example.”

Kaz’s shoulders tensed at the mention of his arch nemesis, his hands pausing for a moment. But then he continued, “Sure they did. And they’d be absolutely thrilled to know that their little princess is here, having broken in into a warehouse with me.”

“I'm not a princess. And I didn’t break in. You did. I agreed to come with you just to spend time with you. I didn’t know you’d do something like this. Clearly I made a mistake.” 

Kaz stood up, finally turning to look at you. His face had his usual scowl, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at you. “You sure are quick to turn against me.”

You crossed your arms, groaning. “I’m not turning against you, Kaz. I just don’t want to get into trouble.”

Kaz let out a snort. "Doing something like this probably isn't what you've been used to? Being acquaintances with me and assuming you'll never get your hands dirty isn't an option."

He always called you an acquaintance. Not a friend. Acquaintance. You had come to hate that word by now. You fought with your heart for a moment, before you finally gave in to it.

“Alright,” you grumbled, taking a look at the boxes around the hall. “What shelf should I look through?”

Kaz smirked, nodding over to the shelf next to the one he had been rummaging through. “Start with that one.”

You slowly walked over to it, taking in a deep sigh before you peeked into the first box. You definitely didn’t feel like you were in your element, but you knew that what Kaz said was true - in the Barrel, you either adapt or you die. It was harsh and cruel, but it was the truth. And as much as it went against your morals, you wanted to help Kaz to survive. Being a Dreg didn’t come for free, and there was no way Kaz would let that life go. Something had happened to him prior to meeting you, something involving Pekka Rollins, and his revenge required him to become powerful. The kind of powerful that didn’t come the legitimate way.

Deep down, you knew that this path you were going with Kaz Brekker could bring you into the criminal world - your family could disown you, you could end up in the street. But still, in a twisted way, this was something you felt right about doing. Even when you were reluctant about it, you felt like you were part of something that would help Kaz in a way you would never be able to help anyone else. You weren’t sure where that feeling came from, but you were always drifting back to Kaz, back in his company, somewhere you didn't belong. Maybe things would sort themselves out in the end. Maybe Kaz would start calling you a friend instead of an acquaintance. And maybe… 

Maybe there would be something more waiting for you and Kaz. 

---

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[theworldendswithsho]

OKAY can you please hit me with some nanami wherein he is pinning for the reader? She’s insecure because the higher ups prefer her ex 💔

ALRIGHT here's my very first fanfiction in AGES! Sorry if its not great, I'm definitely rusty! I wasn't sure who to put in as the ex so I chose Kusakabe lol, hopefully that doesn't ruin it for ya. Enjoy!

warnings: very slight nsfw, mentions of sex, some angst

His Life's Work, Reimagined

Kento Nanami was a man dedicated to his life’s work. At least, that’s what he told himself after dropping out of life as a Tokyo businessman and returning to Jujutsu High as a teacher. He had nothing and no one else to dedicate himself to, after all. He was a sorcerer of immense talent, though he was humble and stoic. Though reserved and a bit stern at times, his students loved and respected him.

You, on the other hand, were having a hard time settling in as a teacher. Here you were, brand new to a job you loved, but you behaved so youthfully that your students had a hard time taking you seriously. Hell, you’d have a hard time taking you seriously. To make matters worse, you’re teaching alongside your ex-boyfriend, Atsuya Kusakabe. Before you’d landed the job at Jujutsu High, you had met him at a bar. You were there with a couple of friends from college, and he was there to have a drink after work with Nanami, the only teacher he really got along with at Jujutsu High. Nanami, being the responsible man he was, left after two drinks and got a taxi home. Your friends ran off with some guys they met at the bar, and there you were, alone, and there Kusakabe was, alone. A few drinks later, you went home together in the back of a taxi cab and the rest was history. 

He was handsome, but he was a fucking coward. He ran away with his tail between his legs, afraid of committing to you the way you wanted. Everyone at work noticed a strange tension between you and Kusakabe, but no one said a word. Everyone, Principal Yaga included, seemed to respect him, and no matter how badly you hated him, you had to smile and nod whenever his praises were sung. Several times, you tried to speak with Principal Yaga about how to engage with the students, and he told you to speak with Kusakabe, that he was a master at engaging with his pupils. Needless to say, you never spoke with him, and your teaching skills haven’t gotten any better.

Word gets out about a Special Grade curse in Shinjuku, and a meeting is called for all of the Jujutsu High teachers. When you enter the room, you expect to be struggling to keep your piercing eyes off of Kusakabe, but when Nanami walks in, you find your eyes have a new target. He was stony-faced, but awfully handsome, and his body seemed well defined, despite being hidden underneath his suit. Briefly, Nanami looks over his glasses at you and you suddenly look down, feeling your face go red. Did he catch you? What must he be thinking right now?

Principal Yaga assigns Nanami to the mission, and tells him he can pick any other teacher to bring with him as his partner. You look up, and Nanami’s gaze is steady on you. “Y/N will come with me,” he says with unwavering confidence. Your mouth falls open, and then closes again, before you nod your head. The meeting is adjourned and the teachers file out one by one, leaving you and Nanami alone to walk out together.

“Hello, Y/N. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Kento Nanami,” he says cordially, extending a hand.

You take his hand and shake it. “I’m Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.”

~~~~~

You leave Jujutsu High late in the day. The mission goes off without a hitch. The curse is exorcized, and the city of Shinjuku is safe again (for now). You yawn, and Nanami looks up, noticing the bags under your eyes. He feels his heart tug upon seeing you look so exhausted. He quickly shakes his head, thinking to himself that he cannot let himself feel for a coworker. To do so would be unprofessional. And yet…

“You look tired. We should get you some coffee before we head back to campus,” he says, motioning with his chin in the direction of a cafe. You nod, and he straightens his tie before walking silently with you to the cafe.

It is there, over coffee, that he gives you advice on teaching. For someone so stoic, he was surprisingly caring and ready to engage in conversation. Sitting across from him at the small table and sipping your cappuccino while he had his black coffee, you began to realize he was even more handsome than you’d thought. His hair was neatly kept, his face was chiseled and strong, yet possessed a kind of grace that was uncharacteristic of such strength. His normally downturned lips would quirk upwards sometimes during conversation, or when he had a particularly delightful sip of his coffee.

You both stood up from the table after finishing your coffee, you stretching your arms over your head and Nanami straightening his suit jacket. He held the door for you as you left the cafe, and you made your way back to Jujutsu High without a problem. You found yourself thinking about him, and how truly mature and responsible he was. You felt your heart flutter, and then you squeezed your eyes shut. I can’t fall in love with another teacher again. If this goes badly, my job will be twice as hellish as it is now.

Little did you know, Nanami was in the dark of his room on campus thinking about you, too. Thinking about your dainty hands around your coffee cup, and then around your weapon, and then around him. Suddenly, he had a new reason to go teach every day, and it wasn’t that he was dedicated to his life’s work.

~~~~~

During a lunch break, you observe Nanami and Kusakabe sitting together and chatting. You feel your stomach clench nervously. How could I have forgotten they were friends? They were at the bar together that night, weren’t they? You noticed Kusakabe’s eyes flicker behind Nanami and land on you, and you squeeze your lunch box a little tighter. Nanami, whose back is currently to you, follows Kusakabe’s gaze, and his lips upturn slightly upon seeing you.

“L/N, come sit with us. We were just talking about the mission last evening,” Nanami says.

I offer a fake smile and apologize. “Sorry, I was just about to take my lunch back to my classroom. I’ve got some lesson planning to do,” you say, and with that, you scurry out of the faculty room and back to your classroom. Nanami’s slight smile drops, and Kusakabe shakes his head. “If she wants to keep her job here, she’ll have to be a little friendlier than that,” Kusakabe mutters. Nanami looks confusedly at Kusakabe, who then explains that you used to date. Nanami feels a pang of jealousy in his chest upon hearing Kusakabe joke, “She must still be in love with me or something.”

The next few days at lunch, Kusakabe continues talking with Nanami about you. He always makes snide comments about your abilities as a sorcerer and as a teacher, and of course, your relationship together. Nanami senses your presence in the lunch room, and though Kusakabe is speaking quietly, Nanami decides to speak up so you know he was talking about you.

“Actually, L/N’s a pretty good teacher. I think she just needed time to settle in, is all,” Nanami says loudly. Kusakabe’s face drops and he shushes Nanami. “Kento, she’s in the room. Don’t need her knowing I’m talking about her.” Nanami nods in false agreement, and turns to you and gives you a slight smile when Kusakabe looks away.

You feel pride swell in your chest knowing that Nanami thinks highly of you. Who cares what your ex says, right? Nanami believes in you. The feeling of pride ebbs away as your thoughts run wild, and you begin to wonder if Nanami was just trying to save face. How much have they said about me when I wasn’t there? Does Nanami think I’m easy for dating Kusakabe?

You don’t know that Nanami thinks about you every morning when he combs his hair and puts on his cologne. You don’t know that he wishes he was waking up next to you in the morning, or cooking meals for you when he’s cooking for himself. You don’t know the way your name falls from his lips when his hands roam his body in the shower at night, after a long day of work.

~~~~~

You’re sitting at the your desk in your empty classroom, mulling over the lesson plans in your binder. You look up at the clock. Its 2:27, and Nanami is supposed to be here at 2:30. You feel your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone in an empty classroom with him, but wipe the sweat off on your skirt and resume mulling through your lesson plans. The door to your classroom is open, but there’s a knock. You look up, pleasantly surprised that Nanami is early, only to find Kusakabe leaning in the doorframe, looking at you with a smirk.

“What are you doing here?” You say, disgust clear in your voice.

“Now, now, Y/N… You’re really going to have to be nicer to me than that. I’ve got a meeting with Yaga and some of the other teachers today to discuss your performance… and your behavior.”

Your eyes widen. Was he seriously blackmailing you right now?

“What do you want?”

“I want those teaching the next generation of Jujutsu sorcerers to actually be worth their salt,” he retorts. “Your performance has been lackluster, to say the least. Nanami’s the only reason Yaga hasn’t put you on administrative leave, yet.”

Kusakabe saunters over from the door frame, putting his hands on your desk and leaning over you.

“Nanami speaks real highly of you, y’know. You fuckin’ him?” he says in a low voice, leaning in close to you.

In the uncomfortable silence following that statement, you hear Nanami clear his throat. You look towards the doorway, and Kusakabe whips around and stands up straight. “Oh hey, Ken-”

“Save it, Atsuya. There’s nothing going on with me and L/N. I’ve been mentoring her in her teaching skills and I have seen genuine improvement. She is more than worth her salt, and she is more than capable of teaching the next generation. I advise you leave so I can go over lesson plans with her. And be very sure Principal Yaga will be hearing about this at the faculty meeting later,” Nanami says, his voice stern and low, a near growl.

Kusakabe rolls his eyes and stalks out of the classroom.

The air in the room suddenly feels very hot as Nanami pulls a chair over to your desk and sits next to you, looking towards the binder full of lesson plans on the desk. 

“Thank you, Nanami. For standing up for me.”

“Please, call me Kento,” he says in a honeyed voice, his eyes meeting yours and softening.

“Nan- I mean Kento,” you start, not yet used to the name change. “About what Kusakabe was saying… I know you said there’s nothing going on between us, but to be honest, I kind of wish there was.”

Your words hang in the air, and your face flushes. You expect Nanami to push his chair back, to tell you its unprofessional, to shake his head and pretend it didn’t happen. But instead, he smiles, a real genuine smile, and leans closer to you.

“I’ve been wishing there was something going on between us since I first met you at the mission briefing,” he practically whispers. His voice is steady, but it cannot conceal his longing for you. “Is this okay?” Kento asks, bringing his hand up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. You nod once, and that is all it takes for him to press his lips to yours.

[joys-of-everyday]

The more I think about it, the cultivation world and academia are similar. High drop out rates? Reverence towards the people who 'make it to the end'? Meritocracy but not really? Age old 'talent' vs 'hard work' vs 'privilege'? Possibly just side effects of being learning institutions but yeah. Anyway, headcanons for peak lords as professors.

SQQ (SY) The chill professor everyone loves. Is often absent for months at a time doing field studies but comes back with loads of cool stories. Has a tendency to veer off course and everyone's grades may suffer because of how little time is actually spent on examinable material, but at least you'll enjoy yourself. He says he's only there for the fun and doesn't do much research, but you've spied a number of very big names going to him for advice. If you manage to make him drunk, his personality does a 180 and he complains extensively about everything, including his latest webnovel obsession.

og!SQQ (SJ) The salty professor everyone hates. Obsessed with rankings and citation counts, has a constant rivalry with LQG, and does the absolute minimum when it comes to undergrad teaching because he thinks it's a waste of time. He's convinced there's an agenda against him because he didn't get funding for the third time in a row and takes it out on the students. But damn does he know what he's talking about, and you've heard he's actually a genius, albeit one with complicated background. The few phd students he has are utterly enamored with him.

SQH Everyone forgets that he's not a student, including himself. When he teaches, it feels like he's giving a presentation and waiting for feedback. He answers questions with questions. Nobody knows what research he's doing, including the other members of department. Both Shens and LQG alike think he's a waste of space. But he seems to have some mysterious connections to a very fancy research facility up north.

LQG Absent professor. Literally cannot teach. Reads off last year's notes (written by other people) and calls it a lecture. But he's got many fancy awards under his belt for his research and the rest of the department talk about him with awe in their voice. If you take work to him, he will undoubtedly rip it to shreds, but not in a mean way. Half the students hate him. Half the students make him a meme. A few of them worship him like a god.

YQY The nice one. He teaches amazingly, heads a healthy research team, and has some banging papers under his name. The students know him as the best teacher, but behind the scenes he is literally keeping the department together. Wrangles with management and does a lot of outreach stuff on top of all of this. The students are convinced he literally lives on site because they keep seeing him at weird hours of the day. This is half true.

MQF The Professor. When you say 'professor', MQF is the person who comes to mind. The students think he is actually a robot, because they've never seen him do anything other than his job. His teaching is adequate but without personality, and he is extremely mild mannered. Unbeknownst to them, he is known as the 'mad scientist' of the department - he has a bizarre attitude to safety and often goes utterly crazy with experiments which are only just toeing regulations. A pioneer of his (somewhat niche) field.

QQQ Social justice warrior. The one who actually strikes when there's a strike on, and organises all of the diversity events. The student have mixed views on her. She struggled against a very sexist department back in her day and still gets a lot of hateful feedback, so she's learnt to take zero fucks. Which is cool but also means a lot of valid criticism gets taken as personal attacks. With all the drama, everyone seems to forget that she's actually a really big name in the field, receiving some fancy awards around the same time as LQG. Her phd group is surprisingly chill.

[cakesandfail]

Actually, I think what I want to talk about regarding Feet of Clay is something that's often overlooked, which is also my favourite thing to talk about regarding serious Discworld topics: Vetinari, and perception, and ableism.

In Feet of Clay, we're already seeing the turn from "let's get rid of the Patrician entirely, possibly by murder or at least Guild-approved inhumation" to "let's make him seem unfit to govern so that he has to step down, giving us a proper transition because we know everything will turn to shit if he's instantly gone." And that's progress of a sort, right? People are acknowledging his skill as a politician, and the fact that removing him from power with no plan for what comes next will cause the whole city to collapse.

But why do people want to say he's unfit to rule, specifically?

We know that at least some of the answer is that 'concerned citizens' think he's too soft on immigration, and he's not a king so why does he get to tell people what to do, and shouldn't he just rein Vimes in a bit instead of letting him go poking around in people's business. But I'm not sure that's the whole story.

What I would like to know is: why does this change to "make him look incapable" happen now? Is it coincidence that people make that switch once he starts walking with a cane? I don't know if it is.

On the one hand, they might have just given up. Even the gonne couldn't kill him, he's got a few people around him he can trust, maybe assassination isn't even worth trying any more. Things are stable, anyway, no point fucking everything up when you can have a nice, peaceful, planned transition of power to whoever is going to do what you want to do.

But on the other hand... Vetinari is disabled now. He uses a mobility aid. It's visible to everyone that he isn't the same as he used to be. I imagine the kind of people who don't want dwarves and trolls in the city, or who think that it's fine if poor people are treated like shit, are also not particularly liberal when it comes to disability too. Would it really be so hard to say "oh, well, he's not getting any younger... and of course with his bad leg..." and imply that any sudden decline in his physical or mental state is to be expected? That it's all just getting too much for him? An injury like that, well,he must be on some strong medication for the pain, surely? And so on. Putting the idea in people's heads that a disabled person in this job is at an automatic disadvantage- it doesn't matter if they actually believe it, personally, because the point is that somebody will.

And the thing is... it looks like kindness. It looks like acknowledgement of pain and understanding of new limitations. But having been on the receiving end of that shit, I can tell you it's not. It's an assumption that you are fundamentally Less Than, and that rather than using the people and things around you to maximise what you can do, you should just go away entirely.

Does any of this work? Nope. Is Vetinari aware of it and taking advantage of ableist assumptions? Yep. But those assumptions, I feel, still have to have existed in the first place if they're going to be disproved.

[cherry-queens-blog]

A little story i had saved for awhile now and never got around to post it yet. This story hit me right in the feels a bit hard. In this story Gyutaro is searching for a partner on a dating site only to be constantly mocked and rejected sending him into a depressed frenzy until he finds reader.

(MDNI)

Warning: Self harm, depression, and Mentions of blood.

FINDING LOVE

It was a late night about 11:56 and Gyutaro was on his laptop making a profile on a dating site. He was pretty lonely and wanted to at least try and find someone he can talk to, hang out with, and just be with. He wasn't expecting much due to his appearance so he expected to get rejected by literally everyone but it doesn't hurt to at least try right? He thought in his head. Months had soon passed him by as each message he had gotten so far was just women making fun of him, calling him names, and telling him to get off the site. This made his self esteem drop further and further, even seeing all the guys get the ladies like crazy caused his jealousy to just sky rocket. The longer Gyutaro scrolled through the site the more it sent him into a spiral making him let out a frustrated sigh. It really seemed like no one interested in him, and the constant rejection was staring to really wear him down.

"why can't anyone just look past my appearance?"

He muttered to himself while slamming his laptop closed in anger. He knew that he wasn't conventionally attractive, but seeing all the other guys easily getting dates made him feel worse about himself, his jealously growing and festering, making him more bitter and angry. Gyutaro got another message but chose to just ignore it for the night, getting up and going to bed instead since he had work in a couple hours but as he laid down it felt impossible to sleep. He laid there in his bed staring at his blank wall unable to shake off the loneliness that consumed him. He just wanted to feel loved and wanted so badly but getting that was merely impossible. Not knowing how to escape from his own bitter thoughts he laid awake tossing and turning for a good two hour, unable to find any peace. The rejection from the dating had hit him harder than he thought it would, and he was starting to think there was no point in trying anymore.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold of him and he finally fell into a fitful sleep, weighed down by his own sadness and frustration. As the sun began to rise in the sky and his alarm goes off waking him from his slumber. Groaning he hit his alarm to shut it off, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes, feeling the fatigue from his restless night settle in. Despite not wanting to get up, he dragged himself out of bed and got ready for work. He knew he couldn't let his personal life interfere with his job, so he tried to push his negative thoughts aside as he headed out to face the day. Throwing on his shirt and pants he heads out of his room towards the kitchen to find Ume who was already ready for school making frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast before school started up. Gyutaro glanced at his little sister, giving her a nod of greeting before walking over and pouring himself a nice cup of hot coffee. He wasn't exactly a morning person especially not after the hurtful night he had, but he appreciated the effort Ume put in to make breakfast. He took a sip of the of the steaming liquid, letting out a deep sigh as the caffeine hit his system. He sits down at the table as Ume brings him waffles, setting them down in front of him, taking a bite of the waffles, savoring the sweetness and warmth of the food. Gyutaros thoughts however were still clouded with the constant rejection from the site he was using, his mind racing as he thought about all the messages he had gotten last night. After breakfast Ume and Gyutaro both grab their coats and Ume grabs her backpack and phone. The two siblings walk outside towards his motorcycle, placing a helmet on Umes head and helping her onto his bike before getting on himself. After dropping her off at school and giving her a quick hug, watching her run off towards her friends he sets off to work. As he rides off to work he can't help but feel the sense of emptiness building up inside of him. He was grateful for Ume, but he still felt alone and miserable.

Doing his best to push those thoughts down trying to focus on the road ahead of him coming to a stop at a red light. Waiting for the light to turn green a truck flew right past him at 150 mph speeding past the red light, barely missing him by a few inches. Gyutaro felt his heart drop into his stomach as the pick up truck flew past him at such a high speed. He felt lucky to be alive but his heart was still pounding rapidly inside his chest and he couldn't help but feel so thankful that Ume wasn't with him and was safe at school. He couldn't help but feel resentful towards the driver in the truck who put his life in danger.

"that was too close" he muttered to himself thinking about what could've happened if that truck had hit him dead on. He could feel the flood of adrenaline coursing through his body as he let out a shaky breath, his hands shaking on his handlebars of his motorcycle.

As the light finally turns green Gyutaro sat and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before continuing his ride to work. Pulling up to his work and parking his bike, he sets off inside and starts getting the motorcycle shop ready for opening. Gyutaro spends the day working on various motorcycles, trying his best to focus on his work and not let his mind drift off to his own problems. It's not easy, but the physical labor somewhat helped keep his mind clear and helps him feel like he's accomplishing something in his life. As the day draws to a close, he finishes up and begins cleaning up the place getting it ready for closing. He felt exhausted after the long day, but he feels a sense of satisfaction from a job well done. Gyutaro finally arrives back home to find Ume passed out on the couch with cartoons playing on the tv. Sighing softly as he looks at her small form sleeping peacefully on the couch making him feel a sense of warmth and protectiveness flow over him. He grabs a blanket and carefully covers her, making sure she's comfortable before moving over to the remote and shutting off the tv. He heads to his room and changes into more comfortable clothing and sits at his laptop pulling it open to find a bunch of messages from the dating site. Opening up the site he looks through all of them just to see so much hate towards him again, not a single nice message was in sight and it caused his depression to spike, going through and blocking each one of them, feeling like he about had enough as his mood turns sour as he reads each one. The teasing and bashing was something he should be used to but each message had cut him so deep, hurting him so badly every time. A spiral of emotions tearing into him as he sat there wondering why nobody ever wanted to just give him at least one chance, and just look past his ugliness at all. Closing the site he decides to look at other things online to try and distract himself from all the bullshit, and negative thoughts that is pounding inside his head as the hurt, anger, and loneliness swarms him, lingering in the back of his mind, keeping him from being able to relax.

Though despite his best efforts to distract himself from it all, he finds himself unable to shake off every ounce of emotion pumping through him like a drug that's poisoning his mind and body, feeling trapped in a endless cycle of rejection, and loneliness unable to break away no matter how hard he tries. He sits there feeling so isolated, and unwanted by everyone and everything, taking in all his willpower to not break into tears and lash out.

Gyutaro spends the rest of the night feeling so lost in his thoughts and pain. Feelings that nothing will change for him and there's nothing he can do to make his situation better for himself. He can't help but feel tired and drained as he finally crawls into bed, feeling like tomorrow will just be another day of the same old routine. The emotions that are stirring within him finally over takes him making him feel like he's about to lose his mind, the hurt drowning him in depression and self hatred, he finally breaks apart fully, tears now soaking his face as the anger creeps in stronger then before. with tears pouring from his eyes, his hands covering them as the madness takes hold, hair nails now digging into his flesh on his face dragging them down leaving wounds upon himself that bled as he begins to yell out due to the overbearing hurt that was now to much for him. All the pain and and anger that is pouring out of him in torrent of tears and self-harm, hoping the physical pain would drown out and numb out all the hurt inside of him. As he screamed and cried out, he couldn't help but feel like giving up. The constant rejection and mockery he faced all cause of his appearance has really chipped away his self esteem, leaving him feeling like he isn't worthy of love or happiness. After awhile Ume comes into his room after being woken up by his screaming only to have her heart drop into her stomach, seeing her brother in tears and scratches painting his face from him scratching. Without another second she rushes to her brothers side and hugs onto him tightly trying to comfort him, to calm him with her embrace.

"Shhh it's okay brother, everything's okay, please relax everything's okay big brother" She says to him as his heart swells up as Ume holds onto him. The warmth of his sister's embrace sooths the pain he's in right now, hugging her back tightly, taking in big deep breaths trying to calm down from his high of pain. "it's nothing Ume, I'm just f-feeling a bit d-down.." He muttered not wanting to burden her with the full extent of his problems, but eventually he finds the courage to speak up to his little sister and tell her what's going on. "I just... I feel so alone, Ume.. It feels so hard, to keep going when it feels like nobody's ever going to love me." He admits with his voice breaking a bit as his tears wet her shoulder. "I love you big brother, I always will, you're the best brother i could ever ask for"

Her words had struck him harder then anything, to hear how much his sister loved him and cared for him so much was enough to smother his pain a bit despite the tears still being visible in his eyes. A couple weeks pass by and Gyutaro finally had a day off from work so he decides to take Ume to the park so she can go and play for awhile. He sits down on a bench while Ume played on the slides, swings, and so on. Pulling out his phone he sees many messages from that damn site again. Feeling a sense of dread wash over him as he sees all the messages from the dating site, now debating whether or not to read them, but something urges him to open it and face all the insults head on but was interrupted when you walked over and sat by him on the bench, pulling out your phone from your pocket. You were extremely cute with big doe hazel eyes, a nice figure, nice hair, everything. Gyutaro didn't have the confidence though to start a conversation knowing he's just gonna get hit with insults all over again. The feeling of anxiety taking hold, her beauty making him feel even more self-conscious about his own appearance. He does his best to ignore her, only paying attention to Ume's laughter and enjoyment along with the feeling of the sun on his skin. You look up from your phone, looking over at him as a small smile formed on your face.

"Um.. hey" You said to him while looking out at all the kids playing in the park. Gyutaro was completely taken aback when you spoke to him, making him feel shocked and nervous. He looks over at you, feeling his heart rate increase at the sight of your smile. "uh.. hi.... um what's up?"

He stammers a bit, feeling like his mouth is suddenly dried up. he tries to keep his cool and keep his tone casual, but he can feel himself getting tongue tied, hoping your different from the rest but he can't help but push those thoughts down not wanting to get his hopes up. "The sky" You respond back to him joking a little with a slight laugh. Gyutaro let's out a small chuckle as well at the small joke you made, feeling a smile forming on his face, while feeling a slight relief. He was grateful for the moment of levity, which managed to dispel some of the tension he's been feeling. He realizes now that you are trying to make conversation with him and decides to give it a chance, though he still feels nervous about it, worrying about rejection still."so uh... do you come here often or?" He asks trying to keep the conversation going between you two without getting to attached, not when he knows that he could be rejected at any moment. "nah not really, how about you? do you come here often?" You ask him, looking at him as he shakes his head no. He felt a bit embarrassed that he mostly spends all his time at work or at home with his little sister. "Not really, I usually work a lot or I'm usually busy with my sister so I don't get out much"

He admits feeling a bit self-conscious about how boring his life must sound right now to you, but he wasn't gonna pretend either just to impress some pretty girl either. "oh..." You reply going quiet for a moment thinking to yourself. "eh that's okay" Gyutaro felt a little bit of relief wash over him knowing you were a bit understanding of his situation. He knows he's not the most exciting person in the world, but he hopes that you'll find him interesting enough to keep talking to him. "yeah it's not so bad, I mean I like spending time with my little sister and all, but sometimes it would be nice to have someone else to talk to"

He says while glancing over at his sister again, feeling grateful for her presence but also feeling a little lonely. He's not used to striking up conversations with strangers, but he's trying to push himself out of his comfort zone. You raise a brow looking at him wondering something. "Are you lonely or something?" You ask him, watching him shift in his seat a little as he felt a bit uncomfortable at your direct question. His cheeks flush a bit red, feeling self-conscious about his loneliness. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable around strangers, but he does decide to be quite honest with you for some reason. "uh yeah, I guess you could say that" He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I mean I have my little sister but"

He trails off as he looks at all the people on the playground again, feeling a twinge of sadness rise up in his chest. You felt a bit sorry for him but also found him cute as well so you thought of something. "How about we go out sometime?" Your question had really caught him off guard. Gyutaro looked at you in absolute shock as he felt a surge of hope at your words, not quite believing if he had heard you correctly or not. His heart skips its beat inside his chest, nervousness grasping his throat as he got choked up a little bit. "Really? you would want to go out with me?' He asks feeling a little incredulous. He quickly composes himself, not wanting to come off as desperate or eager.

"I mean, sure, that sounds great, uh when were you thinking?" As he asks feeling nervous about this whole thing. A faint blush spreads across your face as you begin to speak. "Are you free tomorrow night?" Gyutaro feels his own cheeks flush as he notices your blush on your face, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. Maybe this is his chance, his opportunity to break out of his shell and finally experience what he's been wanting for so long now. "Uh yeah, tomorrow night works for me!" He says, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies he feels in his stomach. "did you have a specific place in mind?

"there's a nice restaurant called kozue we can go to" Your smile never fades as you continue to talk with him. "oh I never asked what's your name by the way?" You felt a bit silly not asking him for his name earlier in the conversation. Gyutaro smiles felling a bit happy for once right now, he also couldn't help but feel so excited as well while hearing your suggestion. He could not believe his luck either, was this really happening to him?. "My names gyutaro and yours?" He responds while extending his hand to shake yours. "My name is Y/N". You shake his hand with a nice smile. "nice to meet you" He responds trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, not wanting to scare you off with his eagerness. He just can't help but feel like he's on cloud nine in this moment right now. Your mom soon pulls up to pick you up and you get a message from her stating that she was there. You get up off the bench, and as you do Gyutaro gets a bit worried for a second as you stand up looking at your phone until you put it in your pocket. "my rides here... do you have a phone?". He looks at you a bit confused as to why your asking him that, but he's to excited to and decides to hand it to you without thinking to much about it. You take his phone and put something into it before handing it back and waving at him goodbye as you walk to your moms car. Gyutaro felt a bit disappointed as you left until he looked down at his phone and seen that you had put your number in his phone which spikes up his excitement as he can't wait to see you tonight.

[vodika-vibes]

A Little Miracle

Summary: After the Republic is reformed into an Empire, you are stuck working with the same men, under the same Commander, you worked for while in the GAR. Unfortunately, Bacara doesn't seem to remember that he loves you. And it's becoming too hard to handle.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I was looking at all of my requests, and just, none of the characters I had requests for were speaking to me, and smut just wasn't coming out of my brain today for some reason. So have this instead, a project I've been working on for over a week!

“Commander,” You try not to quail under the stern gaze of the man standing in front of you, “I respectfully disagree. This is a horrible idea, actually.”

The former member of the GAR, and currently Commander of the Imperial Army, pins you with a glare that would have made a lesser person run away screaming. And honestly, the only reason you aren’t running is because you’re right and you know it.

“You have a better idea, Corporal?” Commander Bacara asks, his voice low and gravely, and you can’t help but wonder when the last time he spoke was.

“I do, sir.” You say, “Sir, it’s Life Day.”

His gaze is cold, “And why should I care about a natborn holiday?”

“Because, sir, it means that no one will pay attention to a small group of people sneaking onto the planet.” You say, “And…and, sir, it’s everyone’s holiday, not just a natborn one.”

Some of the ice thaws from Bacara’s gaze, though it quickly returns, “And what’s your suggestion?”

“Send me and one other person.” You say quickly, “We get in, meet the contact, and get out without starting an incident.”

He pins you in place with a severe look, “I suppose that might be a good idea,” He says grudgingly, “Do you have a suggestion as to which of my brothers you go with?” There’s something acidic in Bacara’s voice, and you flounder slightly, because you’re not sure what you did to earn his ire this time.

“I…my understanding is that you would choose the best man for the job.” You offer, hesitantly.

His scowl deepens, “I assume that you’re not going to go wearing armor?”

“No, of course not, sir! I’ll be wearing regular clothes.”

Bacara stares at you, hard, for a moment. And then he nods, “Wait in the hanger, I’ll have someone meet you.”

“Yes sir.” You salute and then turn and hurry out of the room. Hopefully it’ll be someone you can actually work with.

Once upon you were a soldier in the GAR. Once upon a time you were tasked with protecting the Republic.

That felt like almost a lifetime ago.

And while you’re not happy with the Empire, you didn’t sign up for this, you’re stuck. You can no more leave the Imperial Army than you can keep the sun from rising.

At least you still work with Bacara. Well. Under Bacara.

But he’s not the same man he was before the Empire took over. He’s colder, and he looks at you like he doesn’t recognize you.

You miss the man he used to be. The man who would tug you into his quarters and steal your breath with deep kisses. The man who would murmur jokes in your ear when no one is paying attention.

The man who would hum your favorite song to settle you when things were too much to handle.

You missed the man you fell in love with.

And you’re beginning to fear that you’re never going to see him again.

You slip into your quarters, somehow you don’t have to share with anyone, and you pull the pretty dress your mother sent you out of the closet. It looks out of place, mixed with the stark white of your military uniform, but you’re glad you have it.

You hurriedly pull the dress on, as well as some tights and your heels, and you pull your hair out of your regulation bun, allowing your hair to tumble around your shoulders, and then you hurry to the hanger.

The halls are empty…as is the hanger.

It’s nice, if not a little eerie.

If you close your eyes you can almost hear General Mundi walking over to you to discuss a novel that he read recently, or you can hear the shinies joking about which one of them was going to be the first one to get your number.

You release a shaky breath, ignoring the ache in your chest with the ease of long practice when you hear footsteps behind you.

And you start in surprise when you see Bacara standing there in civilian clothes. He pauses when he sees you, and you mentally prepare yourself for the insult that is inevitably coming your way. 

But instead he winces and touches the side of his head, “You look…nice.”

You blink at him, “Thank you, Commander. So do you.” He looks more like Bacara than he has since Master Mundi’s death. “Um…are you ready to go?”

“You can’t call me Commander if we’re going undercover.” He says flatly.

You wince, “Yes. I know.” Except the last time you called him by his name, he verbally tore you a new one, and you’re still reeling from the hurt of that. “Bacara, then.”

He nods once, slowly, and motions for you to take the lead. Which you do, without much of a second though.

True to your predictions, there are a lot of people out and about. But no one is giving either of you a second look.

Bacara’s hand is warm on the small of your back, the heat sending jolts of electricity up your spine. It’s been ages since you’ve been this close to him. But it became necessary after a group of tourists pushed themselves between you and Bacara.

“There are more people than I would like,” Bacara grumbles in your ear.

“Relax,” You reply, “They’re just existing, no one is even giving us a second look.”

His hand slides to your hip when another group of tourists threatens to push between you, and it sits there comfortably, as though that’s where it belongs. “I know. The contact is at this party, right?”

“That’s what the intel says.” You agree.

“Great. Come on, the party is this way.” Bacara guides you through the crowded street, until you reach the open air party that this planet is known for. It’s loud and thrumming with an excited energy that you don’t think you can match…not this year at least.

Once upon a time you would have loved being here with Bacara. You would have tugged him onto the dance floor and spun around with him until he was flashing that secretive little smile at you, and you were giggling and breathless-

But that Bacara doesn’t exist anymore. 

You tear your gaze off of a young woman and her beau, feeling your heart break as you watch them spin around on the dance floor, lost in each other. You swallow the bitterness and the tears, and you cast your gaze up to the taller man standing at your shoulder, “Do you see our contact?”

Bacara slowly tears his gaze away from the dance floor as well, and he looks down at you, “No. Not yet. We might be early.”

“Ah, well…it looks like there’s a snack bar. Would you like something to drink?” You ask, “Or eat?”

“Something to eat would be nice.” He says after a moment, “I’m going to go over by the side entrance. You can find me there.”

“Right. I won’t be long.” You smile at him weakly, before you turn and head towards the table. You’re able to feel his gaze on you, and when you turn to look back at him, to see why he’s staring at you, you see that he’s rubbing his temple again.

You bite your lower lip, concerned, but turn back to the table. Luckily, no one seems too keen to bother you as you grab two wine glasses and some sandwiches. 

And then you walk around the outside of the party to get back to Bacara, who is still rubbing his head. “Com-um…Bacara,” You say slowly, setting the drinks and food on a nearby table, “Are you alright?”

He glances at you, “Just a headache. I’m fine.” He grabs a glass and takes a sip, “Have you seen our contact?”

You watch him for a moment, “No. No, I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just keep your eyes open.” 

You settle on the stool at the table, absently shredding your sandwich as you keep your eyes on the dancefloor. The longer you watch the couples dance, the worse you feel, until you can feel the tear pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“If you want to go dance, I’m not going to stop you.” Bacara’s voice is flat.

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to cry.”

You press your lips into a thin line, “This just…isn’t how I foresaw my life going.” 

“We’re lucky to have the positions we have,” Bacara’s voice is low and chiding.

You lift your chin, “Yes sir.” And then you hesitate and you turn to look at him, “You don’t…you don’t remember me at all, do you?”

Bacara stares at you silently for a moment, “Is there something to remember, corporal?”

You flinch as if he had just struck you…and honestly, his punching you likely would have hurt less, and you quickly look away, “No. I guess not.” You slide to your feet, “Excuse me.” You slip away before he can say anything. You don’t want to hear anything that he has to say.

You wander around the party, taking in the decorations and the ice sculptures, and, before you realize it, you’re standing outside the party, looking out at the crowds of people.

It would be easy, you realize suddenly. You’re dressed just like most of the other women out there. No uniform. Nothing marking you as a soldier at all.

It would be easy for you to vanish into the crowd. 

You take a step towards the crowd, when a strong hand wraps around your wrist. You whip around to look up at Bacara. He looks…conflicted. And slowly, very slowly, he releases your wrist, and it falls to your side. 

“I won’t stop you, if you want to leave.” He says, “You’re not made for military life-”

“...right.” You whisper. “You could come with me.” You offer.

“I am a good soldier-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and then you spin on your heel so you’re facing him, and you reach up to press your hands against his cheeks, “You don’t remember me, Bacara!”

“I don’t-”

“You once promised to take me dancing,” You say, and this time you don’t stop the tears from falling, “Properly dancing, you said, not the secret dancing in your quarters late at night, after General Mundi went to sleep and we’re both two sheets passed tired, but we’re together so we dance.”

His hand comes up to brush a tear off your cheek, and it only makes you cry harder.

“You used to love me, Bacara, and I don’t know what the Empire did to you to make you forget, but I can’t do it anymore.”

Bacara’s other hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and slowly his forehead lowers to bump against yours, “...Corporal-”

“You used to call me cyare,” You whisper, “You used to tug me into empty rooms just to steal kisses and would whisper jokes in my ear to make me laugh after hard missions and would hum my favorite song when you thought I needed a pick-me-up…”

His grip tightens slightly, and for a moment his face twists in pain. 

“If you can’t give me that again, if you can’t be that man anymore, then please, let me go.” You beg, “I deserve more than this.”

Bacara says nothing for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut and his face twisted in pain, and then, after a whole minute, his eyes open.

His grip softens, and Bacara slowly strokes your cheek, “My cyare,” He whispers, pain and guilt and horror in his voice, “My beautiful, perfect cyare.”

You look up at him, and there’s recognition in his eyes. Recognition and more than a little guilt. 

“Cara?” You whisper. 

He smiles at you, and wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb before he leans in and presses the sweetest kiss against your lips, “I did something awful, cyare.” Bacara whispers.

“We can run. No one will ever make you do something against your will like that again. I promise.” You say.

Bacara stares at you, and slowly he nods. Quickly he shoves his comm, and yours, into a dumpster, and then he leads you into the Life Day crowds.

Within days, both of your faces are going to be plastered from one side of the Empire to the other, listed as deserters, but at least you’ll be together if nothing else.